Broken Links
by icybluegoddessfarie
Summary: The day that Harry is told that he no longer has to live with the Dursleys takes an unexpected turn... Now, he's stuck with Malfoy on a journey that he never expected-but with everything that they have gone through, is there any hope of peace? Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

NEW STORY EVERYONE!!

Hi there. I'm IcyBlue, and I bring you my first ever Harry Potter fanfic. I hope you like. I'm on an adventure genre kick, and this plot bunny popped into my head and refused to cease the damnable drumming until I wrote about it. Don't you hate it when that happens?

Anyway, I hope you all make lots and lots of comment on this one, cause I want to dedicate a lot of my work to my reviewers, who keep me going. Send me a fun, in-depth, or interesting review, and the next chapter is for you!

Now, on with the random interworkings that is my mind on Harry Potter crack.

Chapter One: My Greatest Day...WHAT?!

Though there were many who envied or were resentful of the fanciful idea that Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Was-Going-To-Get-Himself-Killed-One-Day, had a perfectly easy and 'adventurous' life, their feelings were misplaced. His friends were the first ones to tell you that. Professor Mcgonagall, had she been near one of the teens that liked to point this 'fact' out, would have docked points and gave a stern glare. Other than that, there were not many people who knew the truth about his Muggle...'guardians'.... and Harry was somewhat confounded that the press had not dug that dirt up and wrote a horrifying, tragic, blown-out-of-proportion front page editorial about it. Then again, he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Hermione had once encouraged him to come forward about the abuse and neglect, that way he might not have had to stay with them again, and other kids who were having similar problems could seek help, too.

But that would have led to questions that he never wanted to face in his life. Some memories that he would not ever dredge up if he could help it.

So, when he heard from Dumbledore that he would not be returning to the demonic Durselys that summer before his seventh year, he could not have been more pleasantly surprised. The fact that Remus and Sirius would be watching over him for most of that time only added to the building euphoria, as well as the fact that he would be staying in a cabin in the mountains, where snow could be found if you climbed up a few hundred feet. He had never been camping before. He would be able to floo to the Weaselys home and vise versa when deemed safe. He was surprised that he wasn't skipping with glee down the hall during the last few weeks in his sixth year. But, he knew that that would be a little strange, even for him, so he settled with humming instead, letting some lyrics from a band he enjoyed run through his head.

_I've got the keys to the car_

_I'm going out on an afternoon vacation_

_They all know where I'm gonna go..._

Harry was not accompanied by his two friends today, he knew that they needed some alone time, so he pretended to go let them 'study' on their own while he went to Hagrid's. It was pretty obvious that they were together now, but they had yet to 'inform' him. He would let them tell him when they were ready, as long as it was before Ron proposed or anything too drastic. He knew that they would end up marrying, and that only added to his good mood.

_The sun is shinning down and_

_There's no one else around now-_

"Watch it, Potter!"

Man, if there was ever a person fucking _born_ to be a kill joy...

Malfoy had collided with him when he rounded a corner, and was straightening out his robe, glaring at Harry as if the 'Golden Boy' was the bane of the world's existence.

"I'm so _sorry_, Malfoy," Harry began, sounding piteously contrite, which made Malfoy's silver eyes snap to his face and widen.

"Maybe I'm not the only one who needs glasses," He finished sweetly, more sarcasm evident in his tone than before.

"My vision is perfect, you just need a stronger pair, _and_ a new brain, because new glasses would only solve half the problem," Malfoy scoffed. As he darted away, Harry could only say that his next action was not entirely his fault, but the sudden idea combined with a flare of that well known sickness, prankster-itis, made it impossible to stop himself.

He cast a silent stinging hex and waited. The way Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin and grabbed his ass was priceless, along with the wounded puppy expression on his face. He turned back to glare at Harry, who was currently trying to contain his laughter and failing. He jumped behind the wall to the next corridor as Malfoy fired a retaliation hex his direction.

He knew that Malfoy was too pissed not to chase after him. He continued to cast shields and aimed hexes back at the raging blond. This was definitely one of their more explosive fights…

They were so involved in their spelling fit that it escaped their notice when they ventured into the crowded Great Hall. Firing curses and charms like no tomorrow, they ignored the cheers and 'ooo's when the spells hit and the screeching voice of both Mcgonagoll and Snape. Oddly enough, Dumbledore sat in his head seat at the teacher's table, unperturbed, as the student body once again flew into chaos under the passionate anger of their two favorite rivals.

The teachers were loathe to separate the two at this point; almost hoping that the hero and the ice prince would hex each other into oblivion so their school could have some peace. And people thought that Voldemort was the worst threat to the school? Just leave those two to their own devices for and hour and the ancient castle would crumble. As entertaining as it may have been to the students, and Dumbledore, for some odd reason, the rest of them were ready to expel either one or the both of them.

It was Flickwick and Flich who intervened at last, and their friends who held them back from punching each other even after they had been disarmed of their wands. The two house heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin stepped forward.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, what is the reason for breaking the school rules _this_ time, pry tell?" Mcgonagall seethed, eyes flashing between the two obnoxiously rowdy students. Snape just held onto his usual glare.

"He started it!" Malfoy growled, wrestling out of Crabbe and Blaise's grip.

"And how did he do that, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape focused his gaze on Harry, looking at him as if he had just murdered ten people.

"Yeah, Malfoy, tell 'em how," Harry's face was alight with barely contained amusement, and everyone could see that the only reason he wasn't on the ground in a fit of hilarity was the biggest, shit-eating grin they had ever seen on his face.

Malfoy's face was flushed with embarrassment. Harry couldn't help chuckling a bit at his discomfort. Ron and Hermione looked between the two and Ron smiled just as wide as Harry, hoping that he would get to hear the story behind Malfoy's current squeamishness. Hermione smiled lightly, almost wistfully, for an entirely different reason.

Seeing that the Slytherin was not going to spit out what had happened, Mcgonagall shook her head and said, "I'm disappointed as always, you two are such brilliant students most of the time-" She was cut off briefly at the twin snorts and rolling of eyes, "But you insist on ruining that by simply continuing this useless rivalry. Fifty house points from each of you-"

"I believe that I have a different sort of penalty for these two, Minerva," Dumbledore spoke up, surprising the rest in the room. He rarely commented on their punishments. "And their houses have suffered enough, I think, to warrant that they don't exactly care about making or losing points."

"Then what do you suggest, Headmaster?" Snape inquired, a genuinely curious expression adorning his features. Dumbledore hardly acted without a definite purpose. That it had taken six years to involve himself between those two was a wonder in itself.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy will follow me into my office and we will have a little chat. I will inform the house heads after we are done," Dumbledore smiled, and the twinkle in his eye was unnerving to the two boys, who followed after him while exchanging similar, disconcerting glances with their friends. Harry and Draco looked at each other while they walked to the office, the one time since school had started that there was no heat behind their eyes or fuel for their petty hatred.

They stood in stifling silence as Dumbledore settled behind his desk. Flawks twitched and observed the scene with interest, quietly twittering. The Headmaster sipped some tea from a steaming cup before he broke the stillness.

"Harry, Draco... Do you know why, after all these years; you still continue to bully one another?" He asked.

"No, sir," they muttered together. They tensed as they heard each other say the same thing, refusing to share another look.

"I didn't think so. Most feuds like these would have either ended by now or you would have just started to ignore one another. Even Severus and James had toned it down by this point," At the mention of the godfather and deceased father, both of their gazes snapped back to Dumbledore. He sighed at the reluctance to believe that statement in their eyes. He leaned down slightly and pulled something out from his desk drawer, and their eyes flickered over the red tinged silver chain. Dumbledore held it out for them, and they saw the broken links at both ends. Neither could hide the confused glance at the Headmaster.

"Do either of you know what this is?" he asked, and they both shook their heads.

"Its name is Akili Mend Dhamana," Dumbledore said, "And it is a very rare and special object; no one has been able to identify all its powers, or its creator. But it is indeed, very powerful, nonetheless." He placed it on the edge of the desk furthest away from him, and closer to Harry and Draco, but they could feel the truth in his words by the residual aura coming from it even when they were a few yards away. The magic they felt from it seemed to swirl beneath their skin, and suddenly their hands were itching to hold the softly shining chain.

"I was hoping that the two of you could fix it for me." He smiled at their startled expressions, "I have tried, but I feel that it needs a younger magic to help it along." His eyes twinkled brightly as they stared at him.

Harry moved forward, not wanting to ignore the urge any longer, and grasped the chain in first his right hand, then held the precious necklace with both hands. _'Necklace?' _He asked himself, _'How do I know that that's what it's supposed to be?'_

The necklace hardly felt like metal in his hand; it was like silky cream, warm, sliding over his skin in a soothing caress. It made him highly aware of the sudden heat coming from his side; he knew it was Malfoy, but he didn't turn to look at him when the slender, pale hand floated in front of him, pausing slightly, before touching the chain in his hands. The slippery feeling of the metal increased as its warmth abruptly engulfed the both of them; euphoria, for a moment, the only thing washing over them. Along with Dumbledore's words:

"The missing piece can only be found in triumph…"

And then everything went white.

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Well, watcha think? Tell me! Love you all for reading.

See you soon.


	2. Chapter 2 Book One: And so it begins

Author: Just to clarify…. YES THIS IS A DRACO/HARRY FIC or HARRY/DRACO FIC. Don't like the sexiness, then don't read. Why are you reading Harry/Draco romance stuff in the first place if not for the man love? Just kidding. Hope you enjoy reading my fic. I have a lot of plans for it.

Oh, and I hope you don't mind the cross over…tell me what you think!

Chapter 2: And it begins…

Draco didn't realize that he had closed his eyes until there was a loud bird screech behind him, and he nearly blinded himself with the explosion of greens and the bright sun. He blinked rapidly as he took the scene in. A forest?

More importantly, a forest that looked nothing like the Forbidden Forest. It was too…_colorful_ to be such a dark place. His stomach bottomed out in nervous acceptance. They were not anywhere near Hogwarts. Hell, they were no where he recognized, and he had been a lot of places. His hand clenched in growing trepidation…only to feel the brown leather of his fingerless gloves.

His first thought was 'gloves…?' and then he looked at his hand and thought, 'SHIT!'

"Shh!" Whoops, he must have said that last part out loud, really loud. Not that he cared at the moment.

"I'll fucking curse if I want to, Potter," Draco seethed when he heard the other mutter, 'I'll bet you do…'

"And apparently, so does Dumbledore. The chain is gone. We're trapped, wherever we are. You planned this with him, didn't you? Thought you could get your rocks off messing with me, huh?"

"Oh yeah, I'm so fucking brilliant that I trapped _myself_ here with you. That bastard! Sometimes, I think I could murder him." Harry's teeth were clenched tightly, and he surveyed the scene and their change into Quidditch robes with passionate hatred.

"Really? I think that's the darkest thing that I've ever heard you say." Draco found amusement in Harry's distraught behavior. It took away from the unsure fear in his gut. Before Harry could retaliate, he asked, "What's that?"

Draco pointed to the satchel hung across Harry's right shoulder. Harry looked down in surprise and immediately rifled through it. The bag held several shrunken books, a shrunken cauldron, potion bottles and vials, two cloaks, Harry's invisibility cloak, a Tent-In-A-Box, a weird blue blanket/cloth, two shrunken wardrobes, two shrunken brooms, two silver disks, and the sorting hat. All the items lay on the ground in front of them, and they shared another scorching glare.

"How long are we going to be here?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"I think that I'm not going to like the answer," Draco shook his head, suddenly as weary as a two-hundred year old.

A ringing sound interrupted their reverie, and Harry saw that one of the silver disks was shimmering like a disco ball. He snatched it up and looked into the mirror-like thing.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice called out before her image swirled into view.

"Hermione! What's going on here?" Harry demanded.

"Well…You're in another world," She said, as calmly as possible.

"WHAT!" Harry and Draco raged.

"Shut up and listen before you say anything," she said, firmly, and their mouths clamped closed, "The world does not have a name, only four nations. I believe you will have a map of the place in the sorting hat."

"I don't want a map 'Mione. I want to get the hell out of here," Harry groaned.

"I'm sorry Harry, but that's not going to happen anytime soon. You're stuck there until the chain appears again." She answered.

"Well, how do we get the bloody thing to appear again?" Draco snarled.

Hermione sighed, staring back at their intense gazes with sad eyes. "You have to complete the mission. All we know about the world you are in is that there is a war going on. The four nations, Fire, Water, Earth, and Air are imbalanced, and that is not good. The Fire Nation is trying to take over the other three. You have to help, somehow." Hermione's brows furrowed, "We're not exactly sure what you have to do, but help with the resistance anyway you can to bring peace."

"That's just bloody fuck-tastic. As if I don't have enough to worry about in _our_ world. Why are we here? Why did Dumbledore do this?" Harry deflated, and Hermione heard the unsaid question, 'Why does Dumbledore always do this to me?'

"I'm sorry, to the both of you," she said, and looked pointedly at Draco as well, "I think Dumbledore wants you to become stronger, and in that world, they practice wandless magic everywhere in its most basic form: the elements." Hermione seemed to be referencing a book on the subject, "It's a rare opportunity. Try to make the best of it…OH! And that blue cloth in the bag, did you see it?" She asked suddenly.

"Yeah… what's it for?" Harry looked suspiciously at the thing on the ground, as if it would jump up and attack them at any given moment.

"It's like one of the ones on the Great Hall tables. Lay it out when you want to eat and say, _Bon Appetite_, and food and drink will appear." She explained.

"And you almost forgot to tell us about this?" Draco raised a condescending brow, "Intent on letting us both die out here, Granger?"

"Oh, don't get all bitchy on me, Malfoy," She huffed, and Harry's jaw slackened with her name-calling. "You can communicate with us anytime you wish on these mirrors, like the floo. Keep one on both of you at all times, and you can communicate with each other as well, in case you get separated." She paused, looking a little lost, "Well, that's about all, good luck. Call me if you need anything," And she was gone before they could protest any further.

"So this is a back-ass-ward training method for you? I knew Dumbledore was not exactly right in the head, but… I'm glad I'm no teacher's pet." Draco shook his head.

"No, you're Snape's pet instead. I wouldn't call that snarky arsehole a teacher, either." Harry grumbled with his head in his hands.

Draco smirked, "You are just made that you couldn't brew even a wolfs bane to save your life."

Harry stiffened at the mention of his surrogate father, "I know I'm not good at potions, but I can still out duel you any day."

"I swear, one official duel, when we were _twelve_ I might add, and you think you're a better spell caster than me. Typical," Draco rolled his eyes. "If you're such a great magic user, then get us out of here, snake-tongue."

Harry hissed and spat at him in the same unintelligible way he had in second year. It sent a shiver down his spine.

"Just because I'm in Slytherin does not mean I can understand that," He smiled almost ruefully.

"I said, 'I'd like to see you try to get us out of here. Don't you _ever_ have anything _useful_ to say?'" Harry snapped back.

Draco sighed, feeling like there was no reason to fight in this moment, for the first time ever, "I think that we should find some people who live here. Walk till we find a town or something. There, useful enough?" He couldn't help but add in the end.

Harry nodded while glaring at Draco, then stuffed the bag full again. It was obviously magicked, as the bag was no heavier than the cloth itself, and he could feel the water repellent and unbreakable charms on it. He scanned through the trees to see if he could spot anything in the distance. He saw a lean pillar of smoke to the north…or what he thought was the north. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at a tree while mumbling a spell before replacing it in its wrist holster.

"What was that?" Draco asked, following him as he started toward the smoke.

"A focal point." Harry explained, "Just in case we need to escape, if we apparate, we will end up here if we have no other place in mind,"

"Not a bad idea…" Draco admitted. "What are we doing now?"

"Doing what you suggested. It seems like someone is building a fire for a campsite or something. We can ask them and find out everything we can; the faster we work, the faster we get out of here." Harry sighed just as doggedly, if not more, than Draco had. "Look, we're the only people we know, and that means the only people we can trust here. We need to help each other out, or we won't be able to do anything productive to escape."

"So…a truce?" Draco asked, unsure.

"For as long as we are trapped, at least," Harry nodded.

"Agreed." Draco assented, thinking cynically while analyzing the situation, _'Oh, how the mighty have fallen…'_

­­

The fire had not been really apart of a campsite, per se, because there were no tents or food over the flames. Only one lone man sitting on a log like a bench who stared at them intently with narrow navy eyes, dressed in white and silver robes, not too much different from a formal wizard's grab. His white hair and beard were long and impeccably clean. Although he seemed at peace with the forest around him, he looked out of place. Like an emerald amongst jade.

They both stopped a few feet from the fire, unknowing of what to say or do. It was uncomfortable under his quiet gaze. It felt like he was assessing them for their power, their worth.

"I see that they have sent a difficult challenge for me," the man in white commented, to them or to himself, they did not know.

"They?" Harry looked a little disturbed by the reverence in the man's tone.

"The fates," He smiled softly, "Those above us. I do not question who sends you, I am sure that it is not important in the least. Why you are here is the matter at hand."

"I was told that it was for training," Harry stated, uncertain now.

"Yes, that is part of the reason," He nodded sagely.

"Then, why am I here?" Draco ground his teeth, "As great as this opportunity may be to learn something new, I am not on his side. But we were both sent here."

"And that is the problem that you will both understand in time. It is apart of your test, but I can not tell you, it goes against the grain and would do more harm than good." His smile saddened.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, frustrated.

"My name is Roku, and I am to give you a push to start your quest off right," Roku said.

"What do we have to do?" Harry intervened before Draco could make a sarcastically smarmy comment.

"From here, you will both travel separately." Roku began, "Draco will meet with a group led by a boy named Aang, who is an Air-bender. Do whatever you need to to assist him and his group."

"Is it really the best thing to part us?" Harry inquired.

"What, you can't survive without the rest of the Golden Trio by yourself?" Draco smirked.

"I would like to see you get along without your flunkies dragging your arse around." Harry spat indignantly.

The sigh that Roku emitted distracted them out of their little insult session. Harry looked apologetically at the old man for interrupting him, and Draco just snorted.

"Yes, Harry, it is the best thing for you to part ways here," Roku looked between the two for a moment, "And you, Harry, will be traveling with the Fire Nation's Prince Zuko, who is a Fire-bender. Both of you will be taught by them, and after you learn what they can teach you, I will instruct you further. It is as you said, Draco, this is a grand chance, don't waste it." He held their eyes until they both nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Now, I will tell you what is happening in this world. The Fire Nation, almost a hundred years ago, attacked all three of the other nations. They almost completely obliterated the Air Nation, all except for one boy: Aang." He began in a light tone.

"Aang preserved himself for all that time until, about a year ago, he was awoken by the two who travel with him now. The Fire Nation is after him because they want to make sure he cannot interfere with their plans for domination."

"But why would they worry over a kid? I mean, they destroyed the res of his people…" Harry pondered.

"You are only one, and evil seeks you," Roku attempted to explain.

"Yes, but that is mostly out of spitefulness. You make it sound like Aang could prevent their plans himself."

"Because he most likely can, he is the Avatar." Roku said, "Master of all four elements, or he is learning to be."

"Sounds pretty fantastical. Can everyone learn how to manipulate all four?" Draco asked, suddenly the interested, 'good' little school boy.

"No, most are born with one ability or none, even when there are births between Nations." Roku said. At Draco's depressed look, he added, "You two, however, will be able to work with them all, your magic from the other world is broad enough to allow it."

"Hell yes!" Draco could barely contain himself. First, wandless _elemental_ magic, and later to use the other types as well? He was in wizarding heaven, cloud 509.

Harry was not fairing much better with the excitement factor, but managed to sober himself. "But if the Fire Nation is so destructive, why send me, to their _Prince_ no less, instead of with Draco?"

"Because the Prince had been exiled by this father, Lord Ozai. He is unsure of himself, but he needs to make a life-changing decision soon. I think you could learn the most from him and he from you." Roku said mysteriously.

Draco nodded emphatically, "So when do we leave and where do we go?"

"Down boy," Harry snickered. Draco cold hardly spare him a glare.'

"Harry will travel straight behind me and will meet up with Zuko and his guardian by the river a few miles away." He ignored Harry's comment, "Draco will go to the right of me and meet up with Aang in a town about a mile from here. There might be a bit of a commotion, but help the group as much as you can. I wish you the best of luck," And then he faded out like a candle flicker.

"Wait! What do they look-" Draco shouted out, annoyed. "Like…Bugger."

"Yeah. Why the hell can't anyone give us a straight answer without fucking disappearing?"

"Hmmm…You'd think because they want our help so much, they might want to get to know us better."

"Go figure. We could be pyromaniacs or just insane." Harry sighed. "Magic people confuse me…"

"Yeah, me too," Draco knew what he meant.

"Potter."

"Yeah?"

"What's a 'pyromanic'?" Draco's brows were furrowed.

Harry laughed, "Don't worry about it, its not really important."

Draco shook his head. "So, I guess we just jump on it, then?"

"I think that's what they've been telling us to do." Harry agreed. "Make a copy of this bag, we'll divide our stuff." Draco looked at Harry with exasperation, wondering why the other _wizard_ did not make a copy himself, but held his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3 Book One: I Didn't Pick This

Chapter Three: I Didn't Pick My Poison

Draco wasn't sure he wanted this learning opportunity any more. Yes, it might be totally wicked to control the elements without a medium, but the more he got jostled around in the bustling street and strange looks at every turn, he was beginning to second guess his, now painfully obvious, premature excitement over such a power. Being in a strange place in a wacky world where the only one who knew you was your closest enemy changed his perspective quite drastically.

'_And I don't even know what the bloody hell the kid even looks like!_' He mentally screamed. It seemed some of his magic was escaping in anger, because suddenly everyone was giving the fuming man a wide berth. '_Ha!'_ He thought cynically, '_Serves you bastards' right! I am a dangerous wizard, after all, even if you don't have a clue what that is.'_

He knew he need to stop with the 'death-to-all' attitude in case he found out where the bugger kid was, but there was no end to the fuel his thoughts added to it. He knew that if it had been someone else this pissed off, he would have just teased them mercilessly…come to think of it, that probably was not the best action plan if he wanted to keep his pretty head attached to his body, but there was just something so satisfying about seeing Potter so angry…

That image effectively killed his bad mood. That in itself should have worried him, but there was no one here that would care in the least. He found himself letting go of part of the mask he wore in school, knew it wouldn't hurt to do it while Potter and his friends weren't around to gawk at him. Anybody from his school would have been stunned into silence by the small, soft smile on his face.

It was probably a good thing that he found a way out of his lost thoughts, because not a minute later, someone shouted out, "Aang! Where are you? Aang, Appa isn't listening to me, and he's chewing on someone's roof!"

Draco turned and saw that the voice belonged to a tan-skinned young man, only fifteen or so in age, with brown-black hair in a spiky ponytail coming out the back of his head. He wore something like a white collar made of what appeared to be shells, a blue tunic and navy long-sleeved under shirt and pants with black knee-length boots and white belt and wrist guards. His eyes were wide and light blue, and seemed even wider in his search for Aang. Draco saw this as a very lucky happenstance and decided that fate might not be such a bad thing to follow…as long as it was in another world than his own.

"Are you looking for someone?" The tan man's attention focused on Draco. He seemed to be sizing Draco up, staring him down, as if Draco would just suddenly pull a knife on him or something dangerous. "I could help," Draco offered, trying not to arose the man's suspicions any further than they already were.

"Where are you from, the Earth Nation? You're dressed kind of funny…" The boy's eyes narrowed, before he was promptly clobbered over the head with a girl's fist, who was dressed very similar to him.

"Sokka, where are your manners?" She quipped angrily. "I'm sorry, my brother can be a little over the top sometimes…" She held out her hand for Draco to shake, or at least he hoped he interpreted the gesture correctly. "My name is Katara, and we would be glad to accept your help," She smiled.

"Draco," He answered, and shook her hand almost nervously.

"But, Katara," Sokka whined, "What if he's from the Fire Nation?"

Katara gave him a dry look, obviously displeased with his whining. "We're sorry to be so suspicious; Draco, but we've had some bad dealings with people in the past."

"It's quite alright, I know what you mean." Draco assured, "In times of war, civility is usually the first thing to go,"

"You have a strange accent," She looked at him, curiously.

"Oh, yes, so I've been told," He chuckled, not sure of what to respond with, "I don't have a clue where I got it from,"

Katara giggled, "I've met a few people like that,"

"So, uh, who were you looking for again?" He tried to rush thing along.

"Oh, his name is Aang, and he's about so tall, bald, with blue arrow tattoos on his head and arms, and an orange and yellow tunic," Katara described.

Draco nodded his head and considered the flamboyant image that came to mind at her illustration. He was starting to wonder if they were all preparing for a Muggle Halloween, when he realized that most people were looking at him the same way.

There was a crash down an alley not thirty feet from them and a shout, "That's him! Get that kid!"

Everyone in the group tensed and Sokka pulled what looked like a sharp-edged boomerang from his back holster while Katara uncorked her water bag and bended the water out of it. For his first time at seeing non-verbal, wandless magic, Draco was impressed by the way she wielded it. There was a crack in the earth and a sudden boom right behind them that the siblings did not seem bothered by, and a young, green dressed girl was hurtling rocks at the oncoming red clad men, narrowly missing an orange and yellow dressed kid. Said kid looked as if he were dancing as winds flew around and past him at the same men, and Draco felt a little put off, for an instant, as he produced his wand. He almost slapped himself in the next instant for that thought. He was a wizard, and could pull feats that they could not yet imagine with _his_ magic, damnit!

So, when all the bad guys lay unconscious and groaning, he saw what they all failed to notice: the last attacker hidden conspicuously behind the corner that Aang, (or at least he hoped that this brightly dressed kid was Aang) had run out of. He acted on impulse, as the man jumped into action and aimed a perfect shot at Aang's back, firing out a "STUPEFY!"

In a moment of hapless reflection, Draco paled at the image he would have made if his hex _had not_ worked; standing there, shouting out gibberish with a seemingly weak twig in his palm. He was glad the spell did work, and did not question that sad fear in his mind anymore.

The red guard fell back, and the others stared at him in shock, especially those in the crowd who had been staring at him earlier. The scrutiny was hard, harsher than any he had had to deal with before. Somehow, his heart stilled and his body sprang into action, legs flying towards the forest, hearing shouts of disbelief and confusion. He almost wished that his magic did not work in this world.

He finally stopped and slumped against a strong tree, panting with his wand clutched painfully in his hand. Never before had he felt that he would be persecuted for his ancestry; it was a mortalizing frozen grip on his insides.

"Are you alright?"

Katara's voice spun him round, want waist level and ready. She started for a moment, and then relaxed as her eyes saddened.

"That was…AMAZING!" Sokka ran up to him, either ignoring or not seeing Draco's frightened disposition. "You knocked that guy out without bending or even touching him! How did you do it? Please, TEACH ME!" He dangled himself off of Draco's arm, eyes pleading.

"Don't let him scare you, he gets like that when he's excited," Aang spoke, laughing at Sokka's behavior. "My name is Aang, what's yours?"

"Draco," He grunted back, trying to subtly pull his arm away, unsuccessfully.

"Look, Sokka, I don't mean to ruin it for you, but I was born with this, you can't learn it like bending," Draco explained, happy that Sokka released him, but not at his expression.

"Oh, man," Sokka kicked at the dirt.

"So, what are you doing here, Draco?" asked a girl that could not have been older than nine. She was the one who had been hurtling chunks earlier, Draco remembered with slight tremor. He kept himself calm as he answered, though.

"Hmm..." He pulled out the map from his bag, "I'm in the...Earth Nation, right?" the girl nodded. "Well, the truth is, I was looking for your group, to help you to defeat the Fire Lord." Draco said.

"You're not lying..." She said slowly, "But you're not telling us everything, either."

Draco looked at her curiously. How could she know that? "Yes, I was hoping that I could also be taught by you as well. Bending."

"He's still not saying everything…" the girl grumbled.

"Well, he wasn't lying about wanting to help us, Toph, and he doesn't know us very well, yet," Aang considered. "I would like for you to come with us, you seem like you could help us a lot,"

Draco smiled; not a seer, or a smirk or grin, a genuine pleased smile. They did not know him, and they did not know his family. All he had to do was help them to earn their trust, not prove that Malfoy's were not all the hype and evil.

"So, what type of bending do you want to learn?"

Harry, despite the earlier frustrations, was having a good time walking through the forest. He didn't have to worry about Malfoy; the git could talk the bad guys to death if all else failed. Or let his true colors out, show how to make a Dark Mark and convince the Fire Lord to follow his lead.

Sadly, these both were highly possible outcomes in his view of Malfoy.

The growing rush of water made him move faster, eager to meet the Prince who would, hopefully, be easier to deal with than his long time rival. He did not put much merit behind that happening, though, with the way haughty aristocrats acted in his world…Or maybe that was just the Malfoys?

He broke through the line of trees…and promptly jumped out of his skin as a fireball flew toward his face. He ducked, a pure instinctive move that made him almost glad that he had been through what he had. He stayed on his knees, hands up in surrender, saying, "Hold fire,"

Oh, if he could choke on verbal irony… "I'm not the enemy!"

"Zuko, at least let him speak before being so hostel," said a cheery older man.

"Why should I? He was sneaking around in the forest, he could be a hired assassin or something," protested Zuko, "Look at what he's wearing!"

"I'll change, if it bothers you," Harry's brows furrowed. What did his red Quidditch uniform have to do with anything? "And I was not sneaking!" _This time..._ He tried to stave off his annoyance with the knowledge that this was a place held by war and deceit - especially with Zuko's father. He got up off his knees slowly, brushing the dirt off.

"Come on, Zuko, its time for lunch and tea, and you know how I enjoy my tea," the old man smiled at Harry. "My name is Iroh. What might yours be, stranger?"

"Harry," He answered.

"Well, Harry, how about you join us for lunch? Are you traveling with anyone else?" Iroh gave his nephew a hard glance to keep him quiet.

"That would be nice. And, no, I travel alone for now," Harry looked warily on Zuko.

"Good. I will start fishing, then," Iroh went to turn away, but Harry called out, "Wait!" and rustled around in his bag until he found the blue cloth and moved toward them, laying it out half way in between. He said, "Bon Appetite." and their eyes widened as the food suddenly appeared into view. Most of it was food Harry didn't recognize, but he assumed it to be their traditional food from the way that their eyes glinted. He saw that there was a tea pot that was already steaming, and said, "I hope you like it all,"

"How did you do that?" Zuko asked, settling cross legged in front of the blanket.

"I'm not really sure how it works," Harry said, sitting across from him. "Well, eat as much as you like. I'm sure not going to be able to finish this by myself. Tea?"

"Please," Iroh nodded as he sat beside his nephew.

"So...I take it you two are Fire-benders?" Harry attempted conversation.

"Yes. Aren't you?" Zuko answered.

"No, what gave you that idea?"

"Your clothes, they're red," Zuko stated.

"Yes... but I'm not from here; these are my school house colors." Harry fingered the end of his robe.

"School?" Iroh asked.

"Yes, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Zuko and Iroh shared a look, asking each other silently, 'Have you heard of this place?'

Harry sighed softly. "I'm not from this world."

It took a while and a little demonstration to convince that he was, indeed a wizard. After all the initial shock wore off, Iroh asked the only question that was natural in the situation:

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was sent to help you." Harry said, hoping against hope that they would both not send him into hell fire. He saw Zuko's fists tighten.

"And who told you that we needed help?" he attempted to control his impending anger meltdown by gritting his teeth.

"He said his name was Roku. Does that mean anything to you?" Harry asked, looking at Iroh this time.

"Avatar Roku?" Iroh's eyebrows rose. "He has been gone for over a hundred years. Why would he send you to us?"

"He said that you needed help. That you had been exiled." Harry looked between them both. "Isn't that why the Prince of the Fire Nation is traveling with out guards and all that?"

Zuko was shaking in anger now. Harry quickly amended, "I didn't mean any disrespect or to upset you. That is all I know, all he told me."

"Hmm." Iroh stroked his chin. "What you say seems to fit; Roku has been seen by others before, but for him to interfere where Zuko is concerned..." He thought aloud.

"Well, I take it that you two are not fighting with the Fire Nation any more?" They nodded, "Then that must be it. He wanted to give you the opportunity to help out the other side, to bring peace." Harry pressed on, going straight for the kill. He wanted to be through with this as soon as possible. He felt that telling these two the truth would be the quickest way. "I think that he wanted Zuko to take up the throne if the Fire Lord was defeated by the Avatar."

"Ha!" Zuko stood. "The Avatar has no chance of defeating my father. He doesn't even know how to fire bend, and he's not exactly a master at the other three either." Zuko grimaced. "If he is our only hope, then we are doomed."

"But Zuko, he was able to escape from you several times; he and his companions are clever. They will help a great deal in the war, especially with all the allies that they have been making through their travels." Iroh encouraged.

"He still won't stand a chance if he can't fire bend." Zuko shook his head.

"And if he had a good teacher?" Harry asked.

"Sure, that might help a little, but what fire bender is there that would betray there home land?" Zuko snorted.

"You could teach him." Harry raised an eyebrow.

Zuko stared at Harry, a blank expression dominating his feature for several long seconds before dead panning, "He would never trust me enough, his friends would kill me, or attempt to, if I got within a mile of him."

"Does he know that you have severed ties with your father's crazy crusade?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of..."

"Then there's your first step. Aang, from what I hear, would never give up the chance to gain another ally, especially one who knows so much about the Fire Nation." Harry pushed.

"He has a point, Zuko." Iroh cast a sideways glance at his nephew, "If we work with Aang instead of hiding, the war could end sooner."

"My... uh ... partner," Harry ground out, not really wanting to call Malfoy anything more personal than that, "Is already helping him. At least that is what he is supposed to be doing," Harry mumbled the last part.

"Really?" Iroh questioned, "There is another like you?"

"Yes, and we are both here to do what we can to assist you in the fight," Harry affirmed. "Roku also said that we were supposed to learn bending from you as well..." Harry looked at them both in askance.

"But why would you need to learn that? You already possess great power in your own method," Iroh said.

"He said that it would strengthen our magic to learn your ways, and it would help us with our own battles at home." Harry answered.

"You have a war going on as well?" Zuko asked.

"Yes..." Harry suddenly looked as old and weary as a withering willow. "We have already lost many, including both my parents,"

Both Iroh and Zuko looked down and bowed their heads in silence, saying a small prayer for the deceased. They knew that war yielded so many deaths and consequences, but to lose your family because of it…Zuko could relate. He just lost his to insanity and greed.

"So…" Harry shook the depression from his voice and expression, "Do you think that you would let me help you? I know that none of this will be easy…nothing ever is, you know?" Harry smiled ruefully.

Iroh smiled softly and shook his head. Zuko, done with his internal debate, asked:

"Wizard, huh? Don't think that it will make learning fire-bending any easier…"

Yep, that was the establishing chapter for Book One. It's the beginning of a very eventful and heart-pounding adventure that neither Draco or Harry could ever have imagined. Hope that you like where this is going.

Review and continue to read, my lovely peoples!

IcyBlue


	4. Chapter 4 Book One: Training

And I dedicate this chapter to…

ForeverJynxed!

Thank you for the review. I do not want them to appear too OOC, 'cause that would miss the whole point. Oh, and if its any consolation, my family thinks I'm nuts too, and I love it!

Enjoy, review, and maybe the next chapter is dedicated to you!

Book One Chapter Four: Training

_Three Weeks Later…_

Draco decided that bending was a gift and a curse. A gift because, hey, who didn't want to be able to turn someone into a human ice sickle or boiling pot? That had been particularly fun because when he first discovered how to change water into ice, Sokka had been the unfortunate test subject. Those moments of quiet were highly pleasing…until Katara had un-freezed the idiot. Of course, if Sokka saw Draco glaring at him now, he knew that it was a good idea to keep his mouth shut. The bending was a curse only because if you didn't pay attention and let your emotions get too out of hand, the nearest water source and whoever was near you suffered dearly. And that was fine when it was just the loud mouth, but Draco didn't want to be seen as someone without control. That was unacceptable.

He watched the other benders train intently, knowing that he couldn't tell them that he was capable of learning more than one kind. The truth of his situation would take too long to explain. For now, all he needed to do was wait and help them with what ever self-appointed missions they got themselves into. Help them to prepare, as well, when he heard about the plan of Sozin's comet, the day when the Fire-Benders would be at their most powerful. He had two more weeks before the thing was prophesized to come barreling towards the earth…

Actually, _Potter_ had two more weeks before the Prince had to be apart of the Avatar's team and show the boy-wonder (Aang, not Harry) how to fire bend well enough to face off the Fire Lord. As much as he had come to admire Aang for not cracking under all the pressure that his people placed on him, all the strangers that they met, he really did not think that the kid had it in him to kill. And if Ozai was really as ruthless and devastating as he was depicted, then Aang would have to be a cold hearted assassin to fulfill his destiny.

Destiny. Ha. The kid's situation reminded him a lot of Potter's, as loathe as he was to relate anything to that prick. He was the "Savior" of the wizarding world, their great protector. People trusting the seventeen year old without thought. HA! They should see his potion marks… He didn't care how mean Snape was as a person, if Potter had one ounce of a brain; he would be able to pass.

All in all, he was actually enjoying this place, where ever it was. He was having a better time roughing it (as rough as it gets with a wizarding tent and endless supply of food) then he ever had traveling with his family.

Maybe because when they did travel, it was to torture and murder? Could be... very likely...

If he was honest with himself, (which he seldom was, it only caused problems) he knew that his father was off his rocker, blooming mad with the so-called 'power' that the Dark Lord gave him. Draco had yet to see his father getting any stronger, except in his boasting rights. He was a known follower, but still worked in the ministry, had money to burn, and had a faithful, beautiful wife. You'd think that the man would be happy with a son who was as intelligent and cunning as he was, but Lucius would only push him away and tell him to work harder, and prepare himself.

For what? The Dark Mark? To snivel and kiss arse until his lips were chapped?

Hell no. He may not support the goodie two shoes Golden Trio, but he wasn't going to help out old Voldie if the imbecile thought that he was going to bow to him.

He had lost the desire to please his Father a while ago, there was no reason to listen to him now.

Caught in the middle of his 'honest thoughts', he almost ate a face-full of flames. He ducked down just before his eyebrows were singed, but he was as livid as if the bastard had burned all his hair off. Time to freeze someone where the sun don't shine, as they said in those cheesy Muggle westerns.

He sent ice out in the direction of the attack, the ground suddenly slick and impossible to keep footing on. He heard the tell-tale 'thud' seconds later, and darted behind a bush. He saw that there were at least ten guys, all strategically placed behind trees and foliage, firing in intervals to keep them on their toes. He fired blasts of devastatingly cold water balls and ice sickles. He hit two of the men and trapped their feet with ice so they others could have free shots. He heard this weird tinkling noise coming from his bag, and went to grab it without thinking. He felt the cool disk and looked into it, wondering if Potter had got himself in trouble.

That certainly didn't prepare him to see his mother staring worriedly back at him.

"Mother... I... How did you contact me?" He couldn't think of why she would want to call him here, why she even knew he was there in the first place. He flinched as he was reminded that they were still being attacked, and fired more blasts back.

"Draco, are you alright? Darling, I was so worried when I felt that your magic wasn't at Hogwarts any more... What in the world are you doing?" She finally took in his disheveled appearance, and the black smudge on his cheek.

"Mother, as much of a joy as it is to see you again, I'm in the middle of... well, a bloody war! Could we discuss this at any other time than when I'm under attack?" Draco shouted back, half forgetting his manners as they destroyed the bush he was sheltered by. He quickly hid behind a tree and surveyed what was happening around him.

"WAR! You're in the middle of a WAR!?" Narsissa was livid. "Draco Lucius Abraxus Malfoy, you get yourself out of there and come straight home this instant! I know you know how to apparate, now do it!" The commanding tone of a Malfoy was not a thing to be ignored, but Draco was also a Malfoy - considered a man in wizarding society – and did not have to listen to his mother speak to him like that any longer.

"As brilliant as that idea sounds right now," Draco said through gritted teeth, trying not to lash out against his distraught mother, "I can't. Talk to my _genius_ headmaster about it."

"I will not be told what to do, young man! Listen here--" She attempted to rant, before Draco severed the connection and focused completely on the enemy. Really, he was in the middle of a battle, did she expect him to pause and have tea and cakes with her or something?

As he started to really engage himself into the fight, he noticed something odd. There were fire balls being aimed at the attackers from behind, taking them out one by one. But the invisible ally remained that: unseen. Once the final enemy fell, Draco stepped away from his natural shield and looked intently around the clearing. The others looked as baffled as he was.

"Malfoy!" A voice called out. It caused mixed feelings to erupt in Draco, like _finally_, Potter was there! And, bloody hell, _Potter_ was there…

He didn't have much time to think about it, though, because the red robed miscreant was walking toward him. The amusement Draco felt as Katara attacked Potter as he advanced met with no conflict, though. He laughed aloud and Potter threw him an annoyed glare. Katara paused to look at him as well.

"Didn't you tell them about me?" Potter raised an angry eyebrow and his mouth turned down in a scowl. "Malfoy…"

"Who's Malfoy?" Aang asked intelligently, "He said his name was Draco,"

Potter just about choked on his own spit at that one. Malfoy had let these people call him by his first name?

"Yes, that is his name, but only his first name," Potter said.

"He has more than one?" Sokka asked. "That's weird…" He seemed to worry over this for a moment, and then said, "Hey! Who are you and why should we listen to someone from the fire nation?!"

Potter smacked a palm over his face and tried to rub the annoyance out of his system. "Did you tell them _anything_, _Draco_?" Potter glared at him, mockingly using his first name.

Malfoy's smile was positively evil. "Not about you. I didn't think it would matter until you got here." Potter groaned at his answer.

"Don't worry, he's not apart of the Fire Nation, he's like me," he said to the others.

"A wizard?" Katara struggled slightly over the word. Draco had confided later that he was not from this world. He had to explain the tent and picnic blanket some how, right?

"Yes, I am," Potter nodded. "My name is Harry, and I'm sorry for startling you,"

"Its fine, I didn't know you were a friend to Draco," she smiled.

"Its his fault that he didn't mention me before." Potter dared with his eyes for Malfoy to get flustered over the friend comment as he watched Malfoy hide his sharp bark of laughter with a cough.

"Again, what did you tell them?" Harry asked, more than exasperated.

"That we are wizards, from a different world, and that we are here to help them however we can," Draco said. "Anything else I should have mentioned?" He bit out.

"How about who told us about all of this?" Harry waved his arm in a large swoop, motioning to the surroundings.

"Oh, that." Draco smiled nonchalantly, "Roku, he was the one who informed us and gave instructions," He told the others.

Aang's eyes widened. "Avatar Roku?" He got excited, "He sent you to help us? What did he tell you to do?" he asked Harry.

"Uh..." Harry blinked, "Well...Draco was supposed to travel with you, and I would travel with Zuko."

"Zuko," Katara tried to contain her anger, "Why him?"

Harry sighed heavily. It was one of those 'now or never' moments that could tip the scale of his and Draco's fates either way. "We were told that he is to be the one to teach Aang how to fire bend."

"WHAT!?" Sokka yelled, "He has been trying to capture Aang from the beginning of this whole mess." Sokka was beside himself with rage, "His people murdered our mother!"

"And how old was Zuko then?" Harry felt his own anger flare in response, at the situation and the difficulty, "Two? _One_? It was not him; he knows his father is out of control. He's in bloody exile because he wouldn't listen to the Fire Lord!"

"Then who's to say that he isn't trying to capture Aang to get in good with his father?" Sokka shot back.

"You don't know him." Harry said gravely, "For as long as this war has been going on, how much do you really know about him?"

"What are you talking about?" Sokka scoffed. "We're enemies. He wants to take over the world. What else is there to know?"

"That's the point. You don't know, so you can't judge." Harry crossed his arms.

"We don't have time for this-" Sokka sputtered.

"He's right, Sokka."

Sokka rounded on Katara, absolutely stunned. "What?"

"We won't know unless we try," She looked thoughtful.

"Who else is there to teach me?" Aang quipped, obviously not put off by this idea, "He saved me before. He can't be all bad."

"He just didn't want that general to get the credit," Sokka grumbled indignantly.

Aang shook his head. "Sokka, the comet is two weeks away. There is no other choice." When it looked as if he would explode again, he added, "I can't fulfill my destiny if I don't learn fire bending, and who better to teach me than someone who was taught by the guy I need to defeat?"

Sokka deflated. It was cold hard logic he was faced with, and his emotions just needed to get over the association with his family's killers.

Harry studied Sokka as he said, "So can I bring them here without being shot at?" At the other's nods, he left to find his new friends.

XXXXXXX

Author: So, did anyone else find Harry's little speech about Zuko just a _tad_ ironic? Hmmm? I did too.

The next question is what is the real point of sending Harry and Draco to another world? If you guys thought that the 'training' excuse was bull, then you deserve extra kudos.

Review if you like so far!


	5. Chapter 5 Book One: Another Day

Hey everyone! Love all the responses that I'm getting from this story, I'm really liking where it's going, and I hope that you follow along with me.

And this new chapter is dedicated to…

**SunshineAndDaisies**

'Cause I love it when you comment on all the chapters like that and tell me what you like! Thanks for being such an avid reader, love!

Hope you like this one.

Book One, Chapter 5: Another Day, Another Fight…

The next few days went strikingly well, everyone thought, with the exception being whenever Sokka decided to open his mouth. No real change there, however. Aang and Zuko worked on fire bending with great progress, much to everyone's relief. The whole going up against the Fire Lord thing seemed comparably less suicidal now.

Harry and Draco practiced their own bending and observed the rest intently. The wandless magic was successful even with spells that normally required their wands, and they were getting easier with each passing day. By the fifth day of their reuniting, both could spell silently. Everything was going so well, in fact, that Harry was waiting for the punch line.

Yep, everything good in his life somehow turned into a cruel joke, sooner or later. Ha, bloody ha. Damn. Harry hated being the moody, morbid one, but it seemed that whenever something just got to be good for him, something else would come and fuck it all to hell. Like going to the cabin for the summer, and now he had to deal with this: saving the world, someone _else's_ world, for Christ sake, with his most tedious and belligerent enemy. Peachy-keen.

He figured that the wandless, wordless magic was probably ten, if not one hundred, times easier in this world then in their own, otherwise every witch and wizard worth their salt would be able to pull it off. Grand little scheme this had been, sending him to help out another world with magic that may or may not work in his own _crumbling_ world in the first place…

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice the silent shadow that appeared behind him. He thought that he was alone in the clearing near the campsite at the eastern air temple. How wrong he was.

The shadow crept closer and stilled only feet from his form. It raised its hand slightly, concentrating for a moment, and PRESTO!

Harry leapt at least ten feet in the air as the fallen tree trunk he had been sitting on literally froze under his arse. Not the most pleasant shock in the world, he felt as if someone had pushed him into the Hogwarts Lake that had frosted for the winter. He cried out and managed to spin around in time to see Draco leaning against a tree clutching his stomach in a fit of hilarity.

"Bit of a chill, eh, Potter?" Draco laughed.

"You! What the hell was that for?" Harry rubbed his cold behind.

"What do you mean 'what was it for'? It was payback for getting us into this mess!" Draco huffed out, trying to get back the air he had lost laughing in Harry's face.

"Oh, so it's all _my_ fault then?" Harry scoffed, "As if I would want be stuck in any place with you."

"Of course it's your fault. If you hadn't fired that hex at my arse-"

"As if that was anything new. You were insulting me, yet again, and I was sick of it. Do I even need to mention all the spells that you have fired at me?" Harry snapped, "How was I supposed to know what Dumbledore would do to us?"

"Well, you are his _Golden Boy_, after all. Why wouldn't he clue you in on his little plan?" Draco sarcastically pointed out.

"He doesn't tell anybody, anything! Least of all me!" Harry seethed.

"I'll believe that when I see Snape in a Pink Tutu, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes, and started to walk away…Only to have his arse singed in the process.

And so it began…

Not even bothering to draw his wand, Draco retaliated with three icy blasts, which Harry promptly dodged and threw many fire balls back at him.

They were beyond insults. The flow of attacks was constant, moving against and with each other unconsciously.

They were so intent on their battle they did not see that they had stumbled back into camp, startling the others and shocking them still. The feeling radiating from their bending and focus was like witnessing a legendary battle. When the others saw there was no amiable nature behind their spat, Zuko and Aang immediately separated them, first with bending and then physically. It took Harry and Draco a hard moment of glaring before they calmed enough to relax in their restrainer's hands.

"Well, that was entertaining," Iroh bellowed good-naturedly, "Your bending skills have certainly improved,"

"Yeah, but were you _trying_ to kill each other?" Katara said as her blue eyes looked around the clearing. Many of the trees were cut into halves and thirds from Draco's sharp water slices. Amazingly, the only burns present were on bits of Draco's robe.

"You just had to cut down half the forest, Malfoy," Harry commented snidely, after observing the mess.

"I didn't think a few trees held president over my life, Potter," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Your life? HA!" Harry barked, "You would have killed me if I hadn't dodged so well, if I had hit you, it only would have stung a little. I wasn't actually attempting to murder you,"

"Like I believe that; half of those shots you sent at me were aimed at my head!"

As they continued to snip at each other, the others in the clearing shared a look. Both teens ceased their squabbling when a wall of fire burst between them.

"What is the matter with you two?" Iroh asked with his eyebrow raised, "Do you really think that you can help us when you yourselves are fighting?"

Both Harry and Draco managed to look abashed to his chastisement.

And then Harry said those famous last words:

"He started it."

"No, you started it! I was walking away, and you attacked me!" Draco accused.

"Yeah, after you insulted me!" Harry yelled, "Besides, you agreed to a truce, and you still froze me with bending. What the hell?"

"You can't blame me for wanting to get back at you earlier."

"Yes I can! We were supposed to work together to get the hell out of here! Can't you get over yourself for five minutes? You bloody arrogant bastard!"

"I'm arrogant? Who's the publicity hog? Who's the Golden Boy? You look down on everyone you see!" Draco snorted.

"WHAT?! That's rich, coming from the jackass who calls everyone a mudblood and bullies anyone within ten feet of him!" Harry laughed humorlessly, "But that's okay, obviously, because your blood is just too _pure_ for everyone else, right?"

Draco's eyes darkened considerably. While they had been fighting, the grey irises were alight and fiercely passionate, but now an unhealthy amount of hate clouded them. "Shut up, Potter." He growled lowly.

"Of course you should be proud of _your_ family, Malfoy. I bet your father tells you that everyday," Harry continued, heedless.

"You don't know anything about that, Potter." He growled again, almost pouncing on Harry in a moment of pure, unadulterated rage.

"And you know nothing about me!" Harry shouted out, louder than ever, "So get off your high horse and stop assuming that you do, you selfish son of a bitch!" With that said, he stormed off.

Draco had nothing to say to that. He opened his mouth to retort, to insult, even to laugh snidely at the Gryffindor, but nothing came out. He looked around at the others in the clearing, but had to avert his gaze from Iroh's wise eyes that reminded him too much of the piercing stare of the Headmaster. He went back to his tent, trying to sort out why that fight had shaken him so much, when they had had too many before.

But, really, what did he know about the boy behind the infamy?

He decided, as he went to bed early that night without dinner; that he needed to honor the truce. If not for his own pride, then for the sake of not being dubbed an eternal hypocrite where Potter was concerned. As much diversion as their rivalry offered, he knew that the war in their own world, and in this one, hung in the balance on their trust of each other. Dumbledore was obviously expecting that he would be on the 'light' side in the war against Voldemort; why else would he have been sent with Harry? He still didn't know what he thought about that, though his heart beat painfully when he remembered that final day of the Triwizard Tournament.

He had always felt as though Hogwarts was a haven, a place separate from the real world. School, in many ways, was supposed to be like that. War and society were a kind of unspoken taboo except for when the papers came. So when Cedric had died and Potter had broken down in the middle of that crowd…

He would never admit it, but he had nightmares about that day.

XXXXXXXXX

The morning after their deadly fight was a quiet one. Katara and Sokka had worked to ease the mood between them, but nothing came from their efforts but a few grunts and one-worded answers. The others wisely stepped aside, knowing no one could fix it but them.

It was without words that they came to their pact. They would not speak to each other. They would practice and plan with everyone else, but any side conversation and interaction besides that and their meals were forbidden. The tension that had built up to the explosive fight the previous day seemed to have vanished altogether, leaving nothing but a dismal, begrudging companionship between them. They would fight together, work together, but certainly not befriend the other. So what if they did not know anything about one another? Save the world, get away with a few scars and bruises, and leave well enough alone. Yeah, that sounded like a good deal to them both.

This was how the last week before the comet came was spent. Train, eat, plan, travel, train, eat, and sleep. It was simple enough, everyone once in a while they would pause and converse with the nearest village and see what they could find out about the other nations and who planned to help out or not. They made sure everyone knew that this was the final battle, whether the people were ready or not.

Apparently, they found after some initial searching, Azula, Zuko's insane older sister, was given rule over the Fire Kingdom while the Fire Lord Ozai led the attack. The other piece of information came with some shock: the Fire Nation had managed to build a fleet of airships and they were going to burn the Earth Kingdom, the last real threat to their power, from the sky.

They were joined by Suki, Sokka's girlfriend, four days to the comet's coming. With their group as complete as it was going to be, they sorted out who was going where with who. Because they would need back up in the air, Harry would travel with Sokka, Suki, and Toph, who had taught herself how to Metal Bend, and help where ever he could. Katara would go with Zuko, who felt it was his duty to face off his sister, to the Fire Palace and help try to get him back in power for when his father was finally brought down. Iroh said that he needed to join with the rest of the Lotus Society, and secret group of powerful benders and stop the Fire Nation's ground forces from moving any further into the Earth Kingdom.

Aang, who needed to head off Ozai on the outskirts of the Earth Nation's territory and have that final epic battle with the Lord, would be partnered with Draco, who would fly near him and report if there was any trouble via com mirror. And as solid as that plan sounded, everyone still felt as if they were only nine people against thousands…

Gotta love the odds when they're so obviously in your favor, right?

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Okay, so what do you think? I like this one, it definitely moves things forward. Next chapter is the battle for Aang, but wait, THERE'S MORE!

Yes, there will be more story after Aang's final battle, but I can't tell you all that much without giving it away…All I can say is that there will be a lot more!

Oh, and I commend **adenoide** for your guess, it's almost right, because they can teach each other a lot, but you'll see what it really means later! Hope you continue to read to find out!


	6. Chapter 6 Book One: A Final Battle

Author: Alright! Thank you all for your reviews and story alerts/favorites! I LOVE THEM!!! Oh, and you're welcome SunshineAndDaises, I love giving out dedications for my faithful and grateful readers.

Speaking of which…I hereby dedicate this chapter to…

Grace!

Thanks a million babe, I love that I gave you a pleasant surprise.

Oh, and this is a Harry/Draco fic, as I have mentioned before. The only reason I did not put it in the crossover section is because it is mostly Harry and Draco centric, with little snippets the characters from the other world. And even that is just the spirit guide.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, Grace and loves!

Book One Chapter 6: A Final Battle and...

As strong and magical as broomsticks were, Harry had to admit it would have been impossible for four people to ride on one. He was glad when they were able to obtain a small flyer ship along with all the allies that had joined. He rode along side the flyer and provided cover, not that the fleet of Fire Nation ships could have seen them coming. When he saw that the three (Toph, Sokka, and Suki) were on board the right most ship, he went skyward and observed the oblong, blimp-reminiscent black ships from above, trying to determine where he should attack. As soon as he saw the fire-benders at the bow of each ship were the ones burning the land, he swooped down and picked them off one by one, using both magic and fire-bending, and left the leading ship with the Fire Lord on the bow to continue onward.

This was their plan for the fleet. The ship with the leader would move without hindrance and the rest would be flanked and sunk by the four rebels. Aang would be waiting for Ozai when he reached a certain point; Draco had called and said that they were in position, sounding more than nervous. Had it been anywhere else, any other time, Harry would have questioned his bravery... but the unspoken truce was still there, and he was not one to look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth. Especially when they were so close to getting back home.

Besides, he had seen the Fire Lord, and even from a distance he saw that there was a good reason to be afraid of the imposing and power-hungry king. He just hoped that Aang had found his juju, or mojo, or what ever he needed to gain strength to defeat the crazy bastard. He knew that the others were strong enough and smart enough to deal with their missions, and knew that he had no reason to worry over Iroh, who was feared for his ability and past reputation already.

He cursed when he saw that the flyer had been found and burned. It was a little satisfying to see the ship responsible go down, but he knew that he had his work cut out for him. He would have to be the one to get them safely back the ground. Harry downed all the fire-lackeys he could see and watched as the three rebels infiltrated the ship they were on. Not ten minutes later, the same blimp broke formation and sliced beneath the rest of the metal flyers, taking out all their engines in one literal fell swoop. He could barely spare a moment to cheer them on their ingenuity when he saw their ship continue to descend.

He flew over to the control deck of the ship, seeing the window's shine in the comet's burning light. He concentrated, and like so many years ago at the zoo, the glass disappeared entirely.

"I can only take two of you!" He shouted over the noise of the rushing wind, "Toph, can you get down safely?"

"Already on it," she said, bending the metal like a protective skin over her form. Sokka and Harry were able to push-pull Suki onto the broom behind Harry. Harry was barely able to keep the broom steady when Sokka hopped on after her without ceremony. They speed off seconds later, first having no direction or destination and then spotting Appa, Aang's Air Bison. Harry pulled up next to the gigantic flying creature and helped Sokka and Suki onto the animal's saddle the best he could.

It was at this time that he paused to look at the ground below, searching sadly as he watched many of the old trees burn and buckle in the bright flames. They may have stopped the torrent of fire-benders, but the initial damage would be long-lasting indeed. No matter that ash was a very fertile soil; the grand oak-like copses would never be as they were before. He tried to lower the flames as much as he could (which was only about a ten yard radius); the extinguishing of fire one of his first lessons under Zuko and Iroh.

Harry had a great love for nature. Never mind that he was not very talented in the ways of herbology; animals and forests and plants in general were one of the most special things in the world to him. No doubt that little romance came partly from Hagrid. Actually, ever since he had first visited Hogwarts, nature and the sights surrounding the school had been one of the only things that could calm his temper and angsty moods.

There was a terribly bright light that caught his vision about a mile or so to the southwest, above the canopy of the forest and atop a cliff. He shared a look with Sokka and Suki and they both took off towards the sudden development. Not two minutes later, they were staring down the Lord Ozai, on his knees, glaring in a very lost way at Aang. The boy had never looked more like a monk than in that moment. Sokka was about to charge at the ruler, but Aang said,

"It's alright. It's over, he can't bend anymore. I blocked his chi," Aang actually looked like he pitied the furious man who was a demon in everything but being. But with the boy's victory now announced, the cheers and whoops were enthusiastic and unavoidable. Harry stood holding his broom, smiling at the happy moment. His eyes went skyward, gazing around the area without preamble, before seeing that there was no spec of green on the horizon or shine of blond hair floating anywhere near the plateau.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Draco surveyed the fleet moving toward them with a great amount of trepidation, even when he saw that the flanking ships were taken down. The most fearsome part of that army was still speeding at them. Aang, for his part, looked calm and the only thing that betrayed his demeanor was the tightening of his grip on his staff. It was good that the kid was not a cocky little bastard; he knew that he could die. He obviously was past that immortality phase that some teens went through, like Potter and his friends. Hard to believe how bloody lucky those three were sometimes.

He prayed for some of that Golden Boy's luck, that it had rubbed off on him or something.

Draco sat on his broom, watching Aang for any signs of a flight response, because, really, if the kid got scared enough to run, Draco would be the last person to blame him. Facing off some evil, insane, not to mention powerful bastard, was not high on the things-to-do-to-stay-alive list. But the look on Aang's face – in his eyes – there was nervousness; fear, certainly; he did not want to fail, but nothing close to cowardice.

That determination stirred a sudden courage and hope in Draco…and he could see why so many broken and lost peoples had followed the boy to fight. He did not know just what gave Aang – or any other great hero – their drive, their patience and good power, but he wished that he could hold some of that greatness in himself. He wondered if that potential was in every person, just brought out by circumstance in some. If it was that, the he wondered what would happen when they returned to Hogwarts. Would Dumbledore ask for his help? Would he use his new-found abilities to fight for the light?

Did he want to be a hero?

He was drawn out of his rapid-fire thoughts as the Fire Lord raced toward Aang. There wasn't much that could be determined from their battle, their moves were too quick and bending was flashy, at best. It was still one of the most fascinating things he had ever seen.

"Ooo…" He winced involuntarily as Aang was thrown against the unforgiving rock face of the cliff. He could tell that they were having a shouting match, but the words were unintelligible from that distance. Draco was too engrossed in their fight, at least that's what he berated himself on when the two benders got close enough that when a ricocheted blast knocked him off his broom, sending him tumbling through the air.

With no time to reach for his wand or concentrate hard enough to use bending or wandless magic, he fell helplessly and blacked out when his head cracked on a branch. His body smacked down, boneless, on the forest floor, the wall of flames surrounding his unconscious form quickly.

XXXXXX

"Aang," Harry called from his perch, "Have you seen Draco?" The name felt like iron in his mouth, heavy and foreign.

Aang blinked and looked around the same way that Harry had moments ago. Harry suddenly felt like his insides had dropped out of his body. He knew Aang's answer even before the boy said, "No, I haven't seen him since the fight started,"

'_Oh, shit…'_ Harry tried to calm down, he really did. But the fires still flaring all around made that impossible. He knew that Malfoy had not just flown off somewhere random; the chance to watch Aang fight was too appealing…

And he just _knew_ somehow. Draco was not safe.

"Malfoy!" He called out, eyes flying in every direction. "Malfoy!"

Harry flew off toward the denser part of the forest and the worst part of the fire. He started to dampen the flames as much as he could, but the fire was way too big, too greedy and too strong for his limited skills in fire bending. He knew that Aang, the only other fire bender near, was too weak after his fight to do anything except help search at this point. He pulled out the com mirror, opening the link. The other side was dark. Damn!

"MALFOY!" Was that a spot of white on the earth? He circled the clearing, seeing Draco's body brightly outlined, holy, as if it were on some altar pyre. He tried to swallow the irony that tangled the past of witches and fire purification…The flames were too close to Draco…

Harry dove without another thought. He must have shouted very loudly, because the body stirred some. The flames closest to Draco abated so fast they flashed blue before extinguishing. Without a word, Draco lifted his hand out, reaching toward Harry. Harry grasped his palm firmly and pulled Draco up on the wood behind him. He was so frantic about if that he had forgone a lightening charm on Draco.

The blond was muttering something, the only thing Harry could make out was "…my broom…" in slurred tones. Harry let out a harsh breath of frustration. He threw out his hand saying, "_Accio_ Draco's broom," and the black wooded thing was in his hold seconds later. He was glad for wandless magic; he really did not have another hand to hold the magical implement. He was also absently pleased that the broom had managed to avoid catching fire, a bloody miracle in the middle of all that heat.

He pulled up on his broom hard, shooting off from the ever rising heat of the inferno, like escaping from the last vestiges of hell itself. He went higher and higher into the clear air and away from the smoke. He checked on Draco, who was slumped against his back. He would have thought that Draco had blacked out again, but the shallow-breathing form held tight to Harry's waist. He sighed in relief, and chuckled to himself, because damned if Draco didn't seem like a distressed damsel at that moment.

Harry did not have much time to dwell on that quirky thought, though, because all at once, the world disappeared around them. They were in a place without sky, ground, or color. Harry lowered his broom slightly and felt solid under his feet. He carefully dismounted, keeping the broom afloat. Draco was still having difficulty even sitting up by himself, so Harry pulled him off the broom and slowly sat him on the floor. His eyes searched for anything in the empty space. When he still could not see any sign of anything, he sighed and turned around.

And saw Roku towering over him by about a foot.

His throat caught on a strangled breath as his heart threatened to stop beating altogether. How he _hated_ when people surprised him…It reminded him too much of all his 'adventures' in school and at the ministry.

After the shock had passed him, he saw Roku smile and say, "Well done."

"Thanks, I guess," Harry smiled wanly back, eying Draco sitting beside him. "Will he be alright?"

"Yes. Rise, young one, this place is one of healing as well as learning," Roku placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, and the blond jerked awake. Roku pulled away and Draco stood, looking around and at Harry and the older Avatar.

"What happened?" He asked, completely coherent.

"I saved your arse. What happened to you?" Harry said blatantly.

"I was caught in the cross fire. Quite literally." Draco waved it off, as if nothing important had occurred. Figuring that that was the best answer that he was going to get out of him, Harry turned back to Roku.

"What now?"

"Now, I will pass the secrets of the past Avatars to you both," Roku said sagely, "After that, the fates will guide you to where you belong,"

"Wait," Draco interrupted, "If the Avatars are so special here, then why would you give us that knowledge? I mean, you don't know us at all…" He pointed out, remembering the earlier conversation between Harry and himself.

"You would not have been brought before me had you not been worthy," Roku answered vaguely. No surprise there.

"Huh," Harry gave an indignant sound, having been down this prophetic-type-speech road before, and knew that that was about the best they could hope for from the man. "Then we should get started," He stated, wanting to learn all he could about the other bending types, and feeling about as giddy as he had the first moment the stepped into Hogwarts's main hall.

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"Thank you, Master Roku," They both intoned together, bowing their heads. They had finished their training with minimal mishaps and arguments (at least in their opinion), and were ready to return home.

"It was an honor to teach you both, young ones," Roku smiled softly. "Good luck on your journeys, wherever they may take you," He waved his hand in a grand gesture, and in the next instant they were falling, spiraling down until they crashed down on the stone beneath them hard.

They both groaned and sat up slowly, trying to sort through their disorientation that was becoming a permanent state in their weird travels. Once they both felt they were over their magic induced vertigo, they looked around them.

And their surroundings were…unfamiliar, to say the least.

"Bloody hell," Harry ground out loudly, "Not again…"

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OH NOS! What have our boys gotten themselves into NOW?

Wouldn't you like to know…Hehe. I am evil, I know it. I left it at a cliff-hanger.

Review, and there shall be more soon!!

Hope you liked it a lot.


	7. Chapter 7 Book Two: The Chain Continues

Author: Hi again! Sorry to leave you with that cliffy…NOT! I love suspense sometimes, and you should to. Here's the start of Book Two, and a little insight into what is going on!

This Chapter is dedicated to…

littlesprout!

One of my continuous reviewers. Thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter and the turn of events!

Book Two Chapter 7: The Chain Continues

Dumbledore, for the first time in many panicked hours, was alone in his office. The visit from Narcissa had been a peculiar experience, to say the least. He was no longer surprised as to why Draco had had such powerful magic on him when he had first arrived to school; Narcissa had obviously been the one responsible for that, as evidenced by the fact that she had known so quickly that the boy was no longer in Hogwarts.

He also knew that, while in their reality at Hogwarts it had only been a few hours since Harry and Draco had left, the time to them would have been a few weeks. Time passed differently in different dimensions, but if he was the only one to have guessed that, he was not going to inform an outrageously distraught mother how long her son had _really_ been gone for. Oh, and from Harry's friends too, though he knew that Hermione would have researched and likely come to the same conclusion herself. One could hope for small miracles…

He looked down from the tea in his hands and to the chain that was on his desk. It was utterly useless for all intensive purposes, now that the magic it held had been released, but the changes to it would show the progress of its abnormal and curious powers. He noticed that the chain links were much brighter now; the color merging into a swirl of black and green-gold. It also seemed longer, sturdier than before as well…

The great and powerful wizard sighed almost child-like, as if his bed time had crept up on him too soon. He should have known that a few weeks in a strange world would not be enough for _those_ two. It was never enough for them. Never enough insults, enough fights, enough cruelty, enough passion…

They would give everything they had when they were feuding with one another. Throw all pretenses and insecurities away from themselves and challenge and push at each other like rams. They were always watching each other, always devising plans to make the other look silly or afraid or not good enough. They both had something to prove, and they used each other to attempt it. Even if they didn't exactly know it themselves.

It was a classic case of psychological misplaced anger and issues if there had ever been one. Dumbledore was beginning to wonder if there was really any way to build a positive relationship between the two.

Then he saw the metal link necklace wink in the light, as if to reassure him. He smiled slightly to himself. If anything would work to help those two, it would be the necklace. Holding doubts in the obscure and strange item was not a smart option; it had always worked like a charm before.

It would just need to work its hardest with these two, that's all there was to it.

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The council had been assembled. The leading members from the sympathetic races had come and were sitting with growing agitation in the outdoor stone courtyard surrounded by greenery that was captivating in its mysterious soft-light glow. Like life was visually emanating from the leaves and flowers.

None of this scenery was observed by those who sat in the circle facing the Lord Elrond, the situation grave and made things like simple beauty a waste of precious time. It was a sad day; a sick day that only foreshadowed darker, harder events to come. Many wished to believe that this issue, the whole war could be solved with precision and ease, but they were dumb dreamers and could not afford to fool themselves any longer.

"You all know why you were summoned here today," The Elf Lord began in somber tones, "The time has come for us to accept the truth: Mordor is strengthening by the day, and Isengard has joined Sauron's ranks. These are dark times…" He looked at all who surrounded him; the proud Elves, the strong Dwarves, the single Wizard, the meek Hobbit, and the unsure Humans. What a last defense they made…

"And we have found his ring." There was a sudden commotion, quick conversations of disbelief and fear that were silenced with a sharp look from the Lord. "Frodo," He gestured for the Hobbit to come forward, to set the ring of power on the white stone pedestal in the center of their communion. The young Hobbit stood and walked steadily under the hard gazes of the others in the courtyard.

Again, the hushed but echoing conversations began when the ring was placed before them. Their end, it seemed, had been materialized and mocked them from the shining gold of the one Ring.

"Do not despair, but do not doubt that the battle to defeat Sauron will be hard and long," Elrond continued, "We will not be alone in our time of trouble,"

The Wizard, Gandalf, was the first to respond, "What do you mean, Lord Elrond? Have you had a vision?"

"Yes," the simple answer stirred the conversation again, "It was of this meeting, and of two who would come to aid in our problem,"

The others looked around, trying to see if they had missed the two strangers who would be helping them.

Their confused search ended when two figures dropped, literally, out of nowhere and landed on the smooth stone at their feet.

The groans of the two on the ground permeated the area, emphasizing the sudden silence. Everyone stared intently at the two bodies that were trying to sort themselves out.

Then the one with black, slightly shaggy hair and green eyes looked up at them. "Bloody hell," He growled, "Not again..."

Not even at his words did anyone at the meeting speak. The other one, with light, elf-like blond hair and steel grey eyes surveyed the scene with the same distaste as the first. "Damn," he looked heatedly at the other, "I thought we were supposed to be going home after the battle was over and we were trained, Potter,"

"Well, Malfoy, obviously they lied to us," the black-haired boy snarled back.

"Screw Dumbledore to the deepest pits of hell." The blond stood up with the other, "I hate that man,"

"I could never agree with you more," the raven grumbled.

"Great, just fantastic, I'm stuck with you again-" the blond started.

"THIS, these two children, is to be our saving grace?" A red-headed, burly man scoffed. "We must be doomed."

The two boys looked at the man with almost identical raised eyebrows.

"Calm now, Boromir," Lord Elrond waved him back to his seat. "It is not ours to question what fate has brought us," He ignored the seemingly spontaneous wilting of the two boys and the grumbled, "Screw fate, too," and continued to speak.

"What would your names be, young warriors?" he asked.

"What does it really matter-uof," The blond held his side and glared at the raven for elbowing him.

"My name is Harry Potter and his is Draco Malfoy," the raven, now dubbed Harry, answered briskly. "We are here to help with whatever you need. What is the problem here?"

Lord Elrond did not even have a chance to open his mouth again before a Dwarf stood, furious, "You cannot be serious, Elrond! To have such faith in two we have never seen before! They do not look as if they could lift my axe together!"

"Be that as it may, Gimli, they were given to us," Lord Elrond spoke over any other comment the Dwarf may have had. "And we should not question such a gift, as strange as it may come," Even he had his doubts; his vision had not shown him who was coming, after all.

"Is that all we have to do to prove to you that we are worthy?" Draco asked, amused by Gimli's objection. It wasn't as if he wanted to be here either. "Lift that," He inclined his head toward the weapon sitting by Gimli's seat, and the item lifted itself off the ground and floated to Draco's hand, "By ourselves?"

A smirk spread over his features as he listened to the sudden up roar at his display. He gave a look to Harry, and Harry was trying not to show his own amusement at their reaction to the simple show of magic.

"So you are wizards then," a grey-bearded and long robed man announced to calm the noise. He had a pointed hat with a wide brim and a long wooden staff in his hands, and was probably the closest thing to normal that either of the young wizards could remember seeing in quite a while.

"I am Gandalf the Grey, and a wizard as well," he stood from his seat and walked up to them, "To answer your question, Harry Potter, we are in a war with an angry and powerful entity named Sauron. This," he gestured to the pedestal, "is his ring. It is the one thing we cannot allow him to obtain. It will give him all the power he needs to cover this world in darkness,"

"So, why haven't you destroyed it?" Harry asked after considering for a moment.

"Yes, the boy has some sense," Gimli spoke up, grabbing his axe from Draco, "What _are_ we waiting for?" He let out a roar and brought down the weapon with deadly precision on the Ring. The axe blade was blown to pieces and Gimli was thrown back onto his backside.

Gandalf shook his head at the shock that everyone shared, "No weapon of man can destroy the Ring, Gimli," He sighed, "It must be taken and cast back into the fiery chasm of Mount Doom, from whence it came."

There was a meaningful silence, and most of their heads were bowed in dark thoughts. But Boromir was shaking his head, his mouth caught between a sneer and a brutal laugh, "One does not simply walk into Mordor." He looked up and saw that the attention was focused on him, "Its Black Gates are impenetrable, and the Eye is ever-watchful. Not with ten thousand men could you do this; it is folly."

An Elf with light blond hair past his shoulder blades stood with flourish, "Have you heard nothing that Gandalf has said? The ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you would be the one to do it, Elf?" Gimli growled out.

Boromir, and many of the others in the courtyard, ignored the racist implement behind the Dwarf's tone, "And if we fail, what happens then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli, not really following the line of conversation any longer, glared harder at the blond Elf, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" he cried, and the shouting began. Soon, everyone, including the wise Gandalf was arguing and pointing fingers.

Everyone, that is, except for one Hobbit, and the two recently arrived young wizards. Harry and Draco rolled their eyes at the scene, wondering what bad star they had to have been born under to deserve their situation. The Hobbit, suddenly, boldly stepped forward, and said firmly above the racket, "I will take it!"

The heated debacles ceased slowly as they all looked to the short, determined Hobbit.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor." He reaffirmed, moving further towards their circle, gazing at them a little abashed as he said, "Though, I do not know the way,"

Gandalf, with a small, contrite smile placed a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder, "I will help you on this quest, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is your burden to bear,"

"And you shall have my sword," A shoulder-length dark haired man stepped up, smiling.

"And you have my bow," The blond Elf came next.

"And _my_ axe," the Dwarf followed, heedless of the single lost weapon. He obviously had many more where that came from.

"You carry the fate that is all, little one," Boromir was the last of the circle to come forward. "Let us hope that it is not in vain."

"That was encouraging," Draco muttered, shaking his head.

"Wait, we're coming too!" Two more almost identical Hobbits appeared, hopping up beside Frodo enthusiastically.

"Mr. Frodo won't be going anywhere without me," A dirty blond Hobbit took up Frodo's other side. Lord Elrond looked to Draco and Harry expectantly.

"You want us to go with them?" Draco asked.

"I believe that is why you have been sent here," Elrond inclined his head.

"What can they do? I don't see any weapons on them." Gimli protested their presence again. By the uncomfortable tension in the courtyard, he was not alone.

Harry sighed. With Draco's (albeit sarcastic) display, they still had to prove themselves? Draco didn't look too pleased either, but confident.

"Duel?" He asked, trying to contain his anxiousness at the prospect of a confrontation with the raven.

"Absolutely," Harry agreed, tried of having to constantly ignore his annoyance at the blond. He turned to the Elf Lord, "Do you have a hallway we could borrow?"

XXXXXXXXXXX

Admittedly, they had been a little…intense in their 'friendly' duel. They were both frustrated beyond belief, in their defense. And being accused of not being good enough to help protect Frodo, Sam, Pippin, and Mary (the three other Hobbits) did not make them any happier. They had apologized profusely for the burn and crack marks to the Elf Lord afterward, though.

Elrond did not know whether to be relieved that they were competent or furious at the damage. Harry had never been gladder for repair charms in his existence.

When Aragorn (the dark-haired man) had asked if they needed any weapons, Harry suddenly remembered the Sorting Hat in his endless bag of tricks. They all looked at him as if he was crazy, including Draco, when he pulled out the ratty thing, but he made up for the initial appearance when he drew Godric Gryffindor's sword. All admired the gold hilt, and Legolas (the blond elf that Harry had 'innocently' questioned if he was Draco's cousin) said that it was a well-balanced fine craftsmanship piece, and asked if had been Elf made. Gimli snorted, finding the sword to be fine as well, but laughable if it had ever been touched by Elf hands.

Harry, who had no idea either way, said that it could have been.

Draco looked a little put out at the idea that Harry got a weapon from their world to fight with. He wondered absently if he could pull something out of the hat as well (cringing at the bad pun used for Muggle Magicians) and asked if he could see the hat. Harry was surprised that he had even asked, handing over the item in a moment of confused haze.

Draco plunged his hand in with determination, and searched blindly in the seemingly endless space of the Hat's depths. His fingers found purchase on a handle, and he immediately pulled the object out.

It was magnificent.

The weapon had its 'hilt' in the center, a silver piece with a winking emerald eye. There were two curved blades on either side of it, sharpened to perfection and seemingly weightless.

"I should have guessed," a voice brought Draco out of his reverent fixation.

He looked over at Harry, who was smiling, really smiling, and the change in his mood made the room freer, it seemed. Harry was pointing at the blade on the right, where it read as clearly as it did on his own sword, _Salazar Slytherin_.

Draco couldn't stop his own grin at the obvious cliché. When Harry got a weapon that was gold and rubies, he got one that was silver and emeralds. Harry was Godric, Draco was Salazar.

It was funny how similar there temperaments were, when they weren't in a flaring bout of fists and hexes. The fact that they hated one another so much, but they still found humor in the strangest moments together…

_And the chain grew again, the green and gold overtaking more of the black…_

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I figure if you like Harry Potter and Avatar, you probably have at least watched the Lord of the Rings movies…and if you haven't, please enjoy anyhow, because I'm only very loosely following its storyline. Again, this is mostly Harry and Draco centric, it won't focus too much on the characters from other worlds unless its necessary.

Hope you like the new development.

REVIEW IF YOU LOVE IT; REVIEW IF YOU DON'T, BECAUSE I MIGHT DEDCATE A CHAPTER TO YOU, JUST SO YOU CAN GLOAT!!!

Have a fantastic day, night, or whatever you are enjoying right now. Thanks for reading!

IcyBlue


	8. Chapter 8 Book Two: Weapons and Monsters

**AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!**

FOR ANYONE WHO NEEDS A BETTER DESCRIPTION OF DRACO'S SWORD:

It is a sword staff, at first, meaning that it is double-bladed with a hilt in the center, where you hold it. That part is silver, with two cat-eye emeralds. The cool thing about the staff is that it SEPARATES, meaning you can pull it apart from the middle and the two blades are now two swords attached by a chain. The chain is unbreakable and can lengthen and shorten at its chosen owner's will; so while the special ability may work for Draco, and MAYBE Harry, it won't work for anyone else.

You may think, HEY, Draco's sword is cooler than Harry's, but remember: Harry's sword can channel magic better, so while Draco may be able to do more with the actual sword and technique, Harry's sword gives him a power boost. Just a head's up, I try to make their progress equal, just in different aspects, because they both are pretty intelligent and physically strong in many areas.

Hope that clarifies things, **confused**, because this explanation was for you.

And as for your question, **jade253**, I think that this chapter will help. Yes, they do recognize that their rivalry is harmful and probably not a very good idea, but they are teenage boys, only 17. So, they will still have their rough patches, which will mostly be my fault for what they go through (You can tell I'm so sorry about that, LOL), but their relationship will continue to change throughout the story.

And if you guys have any questions about anything in the story, please ask and I will answer at the beginning of the next chapter. Thank you.

AND THIS CHAPTER DEDICATION GOES TO…

**adenoide!**

Because I like how you keep trying to guess what happens next. I'm happy to prove you wrong, though, because I don't want this story to be TOO predictable, even if you guys already know about the main character relationship. Keep reviewing, babe, cause its fun to see what you think will happen next!

Read and Review, and I might dedicate the next one to you!

Hope you enjoy.

Oh, one more thing: If you happen to see this **, it means 'explanation at the end of chapter', so look there if you need it.

Book Two Chapter 8: Weapons and Monsters

Harry felt a strange sorrow when they finally did leave Rivendell, the house of Lord Elrond. The scenery was much the same surrounding the outer walls of the Elf estate, but the veil of safety and peace that he had not noticed until they left, was now gone. And it wasn't too soon later that they were traveling away from the forests and into the mountains, which then turned into snow.

Harry could not tell which was more magnificent: the gentle, glowing and high nature of the forests, or the pristine and iridescent heights of the icy mountains. By the way the Hobbits and Draco looked at their surroundings, he was sure that they had not seen anything akin to it either. He was hard-pressed to ignore the snowy plains though, when training with his Gryffindor sword, against Draco's Slytherin one. They had found that Draco's sword would also come apart in the middle, but stay connected by a slim, strong chain. As awesome as the feature was, however, the blond would not brag about it once they had realized that Harry's sword would channel magic much more effectively. Draco and he had agreed that training with the weapons was probably the purpose behind their journey here, as well as the interesting things that they could learn from Gandalf.

The Grey wizard was a pinnacle example of old magic. Ancient magic; the kind that most witches and wizards in their day would not touch most of the time or perform unknowingly because of its powerful and unruly nature. It was commonplace in this realm, though only as commonplace as the number of wizards (which was small) in Middle Earth, as they discovered the realm to be called.

Through this training and travel, they became good friends with all in the Fellowship, as they had been dubbed. There were some tensions, especially with the subject of the ring and (quite painfully obvious) between Gimli and Legolas, though Gimli was usually one to start that feud. Draco couldn't help but feel a sense of home from those blatant arguments and insults, however skewed that was, because it reminded him of the House rivalry at Hogwarts. He never thought that that would be one of the things that he would miss from the place, but homesickness comes from the funniest things.

In this way, they came to the blistering, blizzarding Pass of Harocrus, where Harry and Draco had never been more grateful for charmed cloaks and heating and drying spells. They also performed a few of those charms on the Hobbits and surprisingly Boromir and Aragorn, who were curious of what their magic could do. They were glad to do so for their weapons masters, even if Legolas and Gimli did not want the same treatment. Harry had wanted to use their water-bending to clear the way, but Draco pointed out that in some areas, the path might only be made of tightly packed snow, and that would definitely not be ideal.

But as brilliant as the charms were for keeping everyone moving and not so miserable, the biting winds and higher altitude still weighed on them all. Not two miles across the narrow path beside the gaping chasm below, there was a booming voice that overcame the wind with weird words that were lost on all except Gandalf as to meaning.

"What's happening, Gandalf?!" Aragorn shouted.

"It's Sarumon**!!" Gandalf bellowed back, his eyes wide. There was a great crack above them and a tearing sound that shook the floor beneath their feet. Everyone's heads snapped up at the ominous feel. Huge boulders of icy snow were barreling down mercilessly on them like the deathly shivers that ran down their spines that had nothing to do with the cold.

Harry did not have to look over to Draco to know that he moved into action with him. He could _feel_ his magic, his bending, now. The familiarity sent a wash of comfort over him, even in this situation.

Unknowingly, they moved as one, throwing the almost avalanche-sized down pour of snow away from their path and friends. They looked to each other and then back at the bickering group, wondering what was going to happen now.

"We should turn back now! Follow the mountain line through the lower woods, and cut across the plains to my city!" Boromir shouted.

"That path leads us too close to Isenguard!" Aragorn argued, annoyed that Boromir had insisted on something so dangerous again.

"If we cannot conquer the mountain, let us go under it! Let us go through the mines of Moria!" Gimli stated, as if this were the most logical thing on the planet.

Gandalf seemed momentarily horrified at the idea, but he said, "Let the Ring-bearer decide,"

Frodo's head popped up, surprised at being addressed in such a pressing situation. He looked at Gandalf, then at Mary and Pippin, then at Sam.

"We will go through the mines," he said, half scared and half unsure.

XXXXXXXXX

It was a grueling trek back down the snowy tundra, seemingly longer than what it took for them to climb it. Back on the warm grass and sunny forests, they all shed their cloaks except for at night. In a day and almost two, they stood outside the sheer rock face and giant crumbling Romanesque columns that Gimli claimed was the entrance to the mines. It was almost amusing how giddy the burly Dwarf was, but no one dared laugh about it.

When the moon shone from behind the dark clouds, a shining impression appeared on the flat rock in the form of a large double doorway. Gandalf ran his palms over the runes that outlined the impression and muttered them aloud in their native tongue before saying,

"You have entered the realm of Barley, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter,"

"What do you suppose that means?" Mary asked.

"Well, it's simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open," Gandalf explained. He then proceeded to talk at the doors, pushing at them when he thought he had the answer, but to no avail.

This continued for several hours.

Harry and Draco were getting nervous. Beside them, not five yards from the stubborn entrance, was a dark lake and beyond that, a small wood. It would have been something to dismiss, regularly, but something was dreadfully wrong. They could feel it, and the longer they were there, so could everyone else.

It was silent. _That_ was the problem. It did not matter what time it was, no matter where you were in a wood or forest, there would always be some sort of activity, and there was none happening here.

Even the lake was eerily calm; no fish or wind's caress moved the still surface.

"Oh, it's useless," Gandalf muttered in his endeavors, slumping piteously on a flat stone near the unforgiving entrance.

"What is taking so long? I thought that you said that you could read the door," Gimli said from his seat on a short rock.

"I can. This riddle still eludes me," Gandalf glanced warily at the door, wondering what he could be doing wrong.

Gimli snorted, muttering something about wizards, which made Draco's eyes slice to him.

"If you're so impatient, why don't you just open the doors then? _Your_ cousin is the Lord of this place, right?" Draco asked, sharply.

Gimli bristled. "It is very well protected, the secret guarded from those who do not have ranking within the walls,"

"It's so well protected, it even keeps out its own kin," Draco remarked, a smirk in place.

Gimli went red in the face, speechless in anger. Legolas gave an appreciative glance towards Draco, who smiled slightly back. Even Aragorn and Boromir, who argued relentlessly amongst themselves from time to time, snickered quietly at the blond's teasing of the Dwarf.

Harry had heard the conversation, but chose to stay apart from it. The uneasy clutch of imminent danger was heavy in the air, a spicy bitter taste on the tongue. He held vigil over their surroundings, watching as the four Hobbits talked amongst themselves and then as Gimli and Legolas glared at each other over nothing.

That sparked an idea in his mind. After many interactions with the Dwarf, he could see that their kind, judging from the conversations and rowdy nature of Gimli, had a strange sense of humor. But their hatred of the Elves was most prominent in everything they did, especially when they were around that 'vain' race.

He went over to the door, staring at it intently for a moment before looking to Gandalf.

" 'Speak friend, and enter,' " He said, and the older wizard looked up at him and he smiled deviously, "What's the Elfish word for friend?"

"_Belock_," Gandalf answered, and the stone doors in front of them split and opened on their own. Once the rest of the group saw that the doors were opening, they hurriedly picked up their packs and headed to the doorway. Harry would have cheered his victory over the ironic riddle if the dark coming from behind the stone doors didn't creep him out so much. Even more so than the lake behind him.

"AHH!" a shout; it was Pippin, dragged upside down from his ankle by a grey tentacle coming from the now boiling surface of the lake. The Hobbit's scream only went higher in pitch when the body, or more appropriately, the _head_ of the creature dangling him emerged. It looked like the skull of a giant mammoth, with tentacles instead of tusks and a huge snail shell brain growing out of the back of it. It was at least the size of three semi engines crunched in one.

All in all, it was one scary mother fucker.

That was the last thought that entered Harry's head. He drew his sword from its sheath on his back (given to him by Lord Elrond when the Elf had seen his sword) and raced to the beach of the lake before jamming the blade into the water. The torrents of frothing liquid froze from the metal out, stemming and consuming all the free-flowing water in the lake until it was all solid.

Draco had been before a dragon before. Hell, he had even met a blood-starved _vampire_ before. Nothing could have prepared him for this. He had never seen a…a…_thing_ like this before, not even in a text or tome. But all that irrational and unsure fear (no, not fear, _sense of self preservation_, maybe, but not _fear_) fled the moment he saw Harry plunge forward and freeze the lake. He forced himself on the beast, double sword slicing and sponging the ground where Pippin fell and then kept attacking the thing that had managed to free its head from the ice, but thankfully not the rest of its tentacles.

Gimli, Boromir, and Aragorn began to fight with them, while the Hobbits dragged Pippin into the foreboding mines and Gandalf stood to protect them from further assault. Legolas shot his arrows with astonishing accuracy and in quick precision at the thing's head. When most of its arms had been hacked off, the thing was pissed enough that it shattered the ice in a last desperate attempt and started after them all again. The group was corralled back to the doorway to the mines, and they ran forward without any more incentive.

The thing, not caring about lunch so much as revenge anymore, cracked and broke apart the rock face above the door and effectively cave them inside.

It was a while of heavy panting and incredulous laughs before anyone really moved or spoke, happy that no one had been hurt badly or, let's face it, kicked the bucket.

Harry and Draco had to wonder if the necklace was there to help them, or if the Headmaster had finally lost his mind and was using the implement to kill them.

Then Harry noticed something…odd, even in the very dark of the cave. He cast a _Lumos_ spell and realized what was wrong.

He couldn't see.

His hand flew to his face and there was no block of metal glasses frame. _Shite._ He looked around him quickly, but knew that his bifocals were a lost cause. He was too close to the rubble for them not to be destroyed beyond all repairs, magic or otherwise.

With a great groan of annoyance, the only upside being that no _living_ thing had been lost that day, he dug his hand into the endless bag and pulled out the shrunken books and choose which one was necessary. He was muttering some profanities at an alarming rate to those watching him in the new light that he cast.

"Is he…alright?" Pippin asked uncertainly.

"He looks pretty frustrated," Gimli remarked, seemingly impressed with the waves of anger emanating from the teen.

"You finally lost your mind then, have you Potter?" Draco called out sarcastically, with barely a hint of curiosity and slight worry in his voice. But he wouldn't have noticed that, no one did.

"Shove it up your arse, Malfoy," Harry growled, unshrinking one of the volumes and flipping through the pages furiously until he found whatever it was he was looking for. He sighed and pressed his wand tip to his temple, and for one ludicrous and gut-wrenching second, Draco thought that Harry meant to off himself in front of everyone, for no apparent reason.

Then Harry said, "_Sarcio Specto_," and slammed the book shut before shrinking the thing again and putting everything back. He was still pretty huffy, though it was subdued at this point.

"Wait…What happened to your glasses?" Draco finally saw how different the raven looked without them. His wand was lit now, and the others stared at him strangely too.

"The bloody monster probably crushed them, that's what," Harry sighed.

"And…?" Draco didn't seem too keen on why this would bother Harry so much.

"AND I fixed my sight, can we move on now?" Harry moved, walking on until his foot caught on something on the ground and he managed to catch himself before falling over. He bent to inspect it.

"You mean you walked around with those things for almost six years when a simple spell could have fixed your eyes?" Draco was stunned. "You really are daft."

By now, Harry was ignoring him, because he saw what had tripped him: Dwarf bones.

"Gimli…" He breathed out, not knowing what to say. The red-bearded and long haired Dwarf looked in his direction, not understanding the tone in his voice. Harry stood suddenly, and brightened the _Lumos _so that the whole chamber was lit.

It was a horrific battleground, like an ancient rendition of the Alamo. The decaying half-meaty corpses and bones of hundreds of Dwarfs were scattered throughout the front room, tapering off before the small stair that led to the next hall.

"NO!" Was Gimli's incredulous, broken cry. "NOOOO-O!"

Legolas picked up a loose arrow on the ground and inspected it, "Goblins," He declared, sneering out the title and looking around as if they were in the middle of the past fight.

"We should never have come here," Boromir said, sympathetically as well as with a hint of trepidation.

Draco and Harry, who were used to having seen Goblins as relatively un-harmful, albeit grumpy bankers, were left to assume that Goblins in this world were obviously something far more vicious and frightening.

"Be on your guard," Gandalf spoke, his staff lighting like their wands had, "There are older and fouler things than Orcs, or Goblins, in the deep places in the world," He looked to Gimli, who stared at the bodies blankly, disbelievingly. "It is a three day journey to the other side. We have no other choice,"

Gimli looked up at the older wizard then, nodding once in grim understanding. He knew that he would have to see more of his kinsmen dead, probably many more, before their excursion through the mines was over.

No one said anything; they all just followed Gandalf, watching every shadow flicker warily, and wondered what else they would encounter through the dark, stone maze.

Draco glanced at Harry, who had refused to look back at the massacre any longer, and hoped that he had not been too shaken by the experience of the unburied graveyard. He observed the raven intently, wondering that if he looked close enough, maybe he would see that hardened, capable hero that everyone else saw in him.

It only surprised him when he saw tears streak down Harry's face slowly, his mouth set in a grim line. The compassionate pain and sadness flowed off of his red-robed form, even though his sobs were silent and his body steady.

Draco wondered, not for the first time, just how much anybody really knew Harry Potter, the wizard boy, and not the hero.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

** Sarumon is the wizard who controls Isengaurd. If you remember from earlier, Isenguard had joined forces with Mordor, therefore Sarumon is evil. HE IS NOT SAURON. Notice the subtle difference in lettering. Saruman in a person, SAURON is an evil entity that USED to be a person, but now is just an evil spirit-thing that haunts Middle Earth. Destroy the Ring, however, and you destroy him, if you didn't get that explanation earlier. **

Well…what did you think? There should be about four more chapters for this Book, and the next one…

I have no clue. But, hey, we'll all find out in due time, right?

I _do_, however, know how many Books there are going to be, but I don't want to spoil it for you.

Anyhow, I hope you like this chapter. I loved the reviews for the last one, and I hope I get an even better response for this one.

**Get ready for Book Two Chapter 9: My Mind, Your Plaything**

**Coming Soon!**


	9. Chapter 9 Book Two: How can you not?

Author: Well…any of you hoping for a longer chapter certainly got one…

I really wanted to get them out of the mines and get the story moving, because it is kind of a slow part after the mine incidents. I hope you guys like it!

Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to:

**Tarkemelhion****!**

Because I like your input. I hope that this chapter deviates from the whole 'mary sue' thing.

Book Two Chapter 9: How can you not…?

It had been two days through the mines and relatively free of any more corpses. Everyone was on edge, all the time, and Harry and Draco's weapon training had even been put off in favor of tense and vigilant silence.

Needless to say, no one slept peacefully.

They walked in solemn lines most of the time, the small path cramping them together. In the middle of the third day, they entered a hall that was the largest carved and ornamented in all the mines, it would seem. All three wizards brightened their 'torches' and still the ceiling was lost in the dark. The columns here, unlike outside, were crisp and smooth under dusk and grime. The width and length of the room seemed endless, even with the back wall in sight.

"What? NO!" Gimli exclaimed, rushing to the door at the end of the hall with unprecedented speed.

They followed without question, wondering what could upset the Dwarf more than he already was. The room they came upon closed in on them as they watched Gimli sink to his knees and sob uncontrollably. Before him was a stone casket, shrouded in a single beam of light. It was the first patch of sunlight they had seen since they entered the mines, and even it was coming from an exit that would take more time to reach.

Gandalf walked up beside Gimli and read out the engraving on the casket's surface.

"Here lies Balin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then." Gandalf sighed, "It's as I've feared."

Once again, the group was bowing their heads in respect for the dead. Even Legolas looked sympathetic towards the Dwarf. It was unspoken, but they all settled down for a break before they would move again. No one talked as Gimli conversed quietly with Gandalf, trying to get over his sudden hysterics.

The stillness was broken when Pippin sat down a little hard on a well's edge and knocked the bones of one of the unfortunate Dwarfs down the opening. The resounding clangs and smacks from the armored corpse echoed mercilessly and menacingly through the mines.

So much for being quiet.

Gandalf barely had time to glare in the Hobbit's direction before high shrieks and grumbles were heard coming from the right behind the doorway back to the hall. Boromir and Aragorn rushed back to the entrance and peered down the hall and blockaded the decrepit doors up.

Boromir turned back, his tone full of annoyed incredulous resignation, "They have a cave troll."

Again, if the cave troll was anything like the one that Harry or Draco had encountered before, it would probably be ten times more vicious in this world than in their own. They all drew their weapons, even the Hobbits with their short swords, of which, Frodo's glowed blue. This meant that Orcs, grey-skinned ugly things that were humanoid in size and appearance for the most part, were the ones guiding the attack.

It wasn't long before the monsters were scrambling at the doors that had a multitude of holes that promised certain breakage in the near future. Legolas used them to his advantage, firing arrows through them. The stress on the doors became too much soon after, and they burst through. Draco made a thin layer of ice on the floor just in front of the entrance and many of them slipped. It made for easy dispatching of the first wave, but he had to retract the ice quickly for fear of one of their companions falling flat on their arse as well.

It was a thrilling and frightening experience for Draco and Harry. Thus far, they had only used their weapons on a monster's tentacles, but now they were cutting and amputating and slicing and stabbing and…

There was blood everywhere.

It didn't matter that Orc blood was black. It splattered on their robes and chests and hands and cruelly in their faces. A few horrifying times, it actually passed their lips and they tasted it before spitting it out in absolute disgust. It was frightening because it was their first real battle situation, no wands, just harsh metal and unclean blows. It was thrilling to act and have the evil fall before them, instant gratification. It was thrilling because there were no thoughts necessary; it was simple without the twisted and devious plans that only backfired against everyone in the end.

And that, the crash of excitement and pleasure that came with the simplistic nature of brutal war, should have been the most frightening to them both.

Neither could have been farther from fear if they had been in a nursery.

Their bending was unnecessary as there numbers dwindled, until the cave troll appeared. It held a pike in its huge left hand, standing at thirteen feet tall and wide-eyed ready for whatever prey it faced. Even the Orcs closest to it suffered; it did not differentiate allies and foes, only violence, kill, kill, kill. A true definition of a monster if there ever was one.

The troll started to advance on the group of Hobbits in the right corner, but was effectively distracted at Harry's fireball to its shoulder. It wailed something fierce as it turned to him, rushing at him without any further provocation.

Draco watched, along with the rest of the group, with fascination as Harry single-handedly faced the giant creature. His wide dark eyes focused on its movements, his ducks and sidesteps almost graceful in a feral dance as he fired on the troll.

For some reason, in that moment, all Draco could think was, _Why would he ever hide such eyes behind those infernal glasses?_

He recognized his thought's ridiculous nature and almost banged his head on the nearest pillar.

Not one minute after chastising himself, Draco saw Harry dispatch the beast with his sword by directing it with his magic, a thrusting usage of the _Windgradium_ spell. It fell with a resounding thud on its back, thankfully, as the sword would have been hard to retrieve otherwise. There was no time to praise Harry's great feat as there were suddenly great cacophonies of screams and not-quite animalistic sounds echoing in the giant hall outside.

Everyone pick up whatever they dropped swiftly and they ran through the doors and towards the exit of the hall as fast as they could, but they were soon cut off by the sheer number of Orcs that came from everywhere and nowhere it seemed. They all faced outward in a tight circle, guarding their backs while glancing wildly around at the monster hoard.

Another moment of time paused, silence sweeping the vicinity with the abruptness of a car bomb. Then a growl so guttural and deep it shook the walls and ground made the army of grey and nasty depart in a frenzy of screeches and squawks and decaying smells. While the running away thing seemed to be a good happening, no one moved to start heading toward the exit again.

There was a bright orange-red glow at the end of the hall where they had first entered. It was like a flame's halo, but it was steady and strange.

Another growl came, and with it Boromir's low voiced question: "What is this new devilry?"

Gandalf did not take his eyes off the accumulating residual light, "A Balrog," he said, with something akin to reverence in his voice, "A demon of the lower world. This foe is beyond any of you…RUN!"

The command broke whatever hold that their own deadly curiosity had over them and they followed the older wizard to the exit of the hall, running quickly down the stairs that followed. They rounded a corner and raced toward a slim bridge that they could only hope would lead to the end of the mines. The heat they felt on their heels was very literal. Overpoweringly real.

Just as he had reached the beginning of the bridge, Draco looked behind him and was faced with a gigantic, two legged and ram-horned fire demon. His hands were talon-fingered and his body was made of charcoal and falsely brittle black grime. The Balrog's eyes were so bright that they were white, a striking contrast to the red flames and dark form. He ran to the other side of the bridge and saw that Gandalf, who had been their caboose for the last leg of the run, paused in the center of the stone arch.

The others had seen his halt too. "Gandalf!" Frodo cried out, pale-faced and stricken by fear and worry.

The fire demon advanced on the older wizard and came to the edge of the bridge, roaring dry unimaginable heat in his face. It didn't even have a mouth, just a gaping hole in the lower half of its head. The opening glowed fiercely in intervals, like it was breathing.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf shouted at the monster.

The demon snorted at the old man, as if amused. He struck at the wizard with a sword of hard flame, but the conjured weapon disintegrated when he hit a barrier that surrounded Gandalf invisibly.

"Go back to the shadow!" The wizard yelled, grasping his sword in one hand and staff in the other. The demon cocked its head and summoned a new device: a fire whip that he cracked to the side in a taunting way.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Gandalf repeated, slamming the end of his staff on the stone ground in front of him and a flash of brilliant light took over their vision for a second.

The demon snorted again when nothing followed the strange light. He stomped forward onto the bridge and almost fell when it crumbled under the weight of his foot. He pulled back just in time to gain his balance on the ledge. Intrigued by the idea Gandalf presented him, he struck at the stone under the wizard expertly and it folded.

"GADALF!" Frodo called out desperately, held back by Boromir.

There was a 'whoosh' sound as something rushed past the group and dove into the valley under the broken bridge. The demon followed the fast flying thing with its eyes, and roared down at the figure, seeing something it obviously did not like.

It was in this moment when Draco, who was more afraid than he had ever been or believed he would be again, shot an icy blast at the demon, shouting, "Hey you stupid arse!"

Immediately, the 'arse's' attention fixated on the shaking blond and growled lowly, his whip twitching for another hit. As Draco saw something move at the edge of his vision, he fired again without thinking, and Harry, triumphantly clutching an unconscious Gandalf, flew over to the rest of the group behind Draco.

Draco had to hit the demon again as its eyes found Harry. _Shite!_ he thought, as his water bag was empty and the thing prepared to attack him. He threw up a wall of stone out of instinct, but even the thick cover was crushed to pieces at one strike from the flame whip. He was reduced to flattening himself with his arms protecting his head, unable to do anything else but wait for the thing to deal the finishing blow.

He lifted his head after a few moments when he swore his heart had stopped. He looked up and saw a red blur circling the demon like a pesky bug in size comparison. He stood quickly and he could hear someone yell at him,

"DRACO, GO! GANDALF IS HURT; YOU'RE BETTER AT HEALING THAN I AM! HURRY!"

Draco did not need to be told twice. However, after his mind registered that it was Harry Potter valiantly, idiotically fighting the demon instead of fleeing himself, he paused and was unsure. There was a real chance that if he did leave, Potter would die. This thing was massive, and seemed like a great dope, but its power was undeniable. Only elemental magic would work on it, and neither of them were very strong in that department together, not to mention alone.

"YOU MORON! RUN! GET OUT OF HERE!"

_That's what I should be yelling at you, you insane prat..._ Draco's heart stopped again, his stomach in knots.

"GO!" Harry demanded again, narrowly dodging the demon's swinging arm.

Draco ran, in the end. He hurried outside to where the group was worrying over the unconscious wizard, but they cleared the way when he approached. He knelt by the grey-robed man, seeing the gash on his forehead and asked emotionlessly for a water bag. Once he had one in hand, he bended some water over the wound and it shone slightly as it mended the skin. He washed the blood away and the skin was clean, as if it had never been hurt. Gandalf remained asleep.

Draco absently thought that the older wizard could have a concussion, but focused back on the exit that Harry hand not come through. The sounds emanating from the opening were not reassuring in the least. All eyes fixed on the same place, praying for a quick death or hope for prevailing that seemed beyond all hope.

There was a devastating cry, a roar more furious than they had heard yet and great crashes that shook the ground beneath them. Just as the exit was about to collapse, Harry shot out of the last piece of opening available before it completely closed off. The end of his broom was smoldering and smoking behind him as he corkscrewed out of control. Harry crashed hard in the diminishing snow not twenty yards away from them and did not move from there.

"HARRY!" Draco, Aragorn, and Boromir rushed to the comet-like indentation in the melting snow. Harry was face down, but slowly struggling to move.

Draco turned him over carefully, still with too much force in his hurry. Harry groaned, his arms cradling his middle automatically. Using the same water bag, Draco healed the cuts on Harry's face and arms. He pried Harry's protective hold apart and away from his abdomen. He couldn't help his grimace.

The gash stretched across Harry's stomach and was gaping, bleeding profusely. He felt more than saw Boromir turn away and Aragorn inhale sharply. He quickly regained himself at their actions and used the water again. The liquid cleaned and healed well – until the wound was two-thirds sealed. It refused to close further. Draco felt the sickening pull of dark magic coming from the slash.

The wound was cursed. He had to stop himself from losing it in a swearing fit. Harry was cursed with dark magic that he had _no_ knowledge of, the only person that might offer any kind of useful suggestions was dead to the world, and Draco could barely breathe.

There was a good chance that Harry was going to die. Slowly, _painfully_, but surely.

Another groan passed through Harry's lips and it turned into a whimper. Draco felt his forehead.

'_Perfect. Bloody hell…_' Draco thought weakly. Harry had a high fever already. He removed his own cloak and grabbed the satchel at his waist. He made quick work of a white cotton night shirt, tearing it into long strips and using another to make a pad to press to the cut.

"Is he…?" Aragorn did not know what to ask. He watched helplessly with Boromir and the rest as Draco removed Harry's top and bandaged him.

Draco didn't spare him a glance at first. "No, he's not going to be okay. I don't know what…There's nothing more I can do." He finished, exasperated. He looked directly into Aragorn's eyes, desperate.

"Please tell me you know of someone who can help…" He nearly pleaded.

Aragorn tried to appear calm. He knew that showing his own fears would only further the blond's unhinged emotional state. He nodded.

"We must reach the borders of Lothlorien by nightfall," he said.

Draco steeled himself as he nodded hack and went back to attending Harry. He wrapped the raven in his own cloak, and used Harry's broom to support the teen's weight on his back. Once Harry was in place, piggy-back style, the group moved on. Aragorn carried Gandalf.

XXXXXXX

They entered the forest of Lothlorien an hour or so later, just moments shy of twilight. After a good hundred yards in, they were held at arrow-point.

As if they had not been though enough that day.

"The Dwarf was breathing so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," a tall, sharp featured blond Elf mocked Gimli. For some reason, Draco hated him already. Gimli scowled, but did not retaliate. He was smart enough to know who was in the majority here.

Boromir took Gandalf gently in his arms when Aragorn gave him the wizard.

"We need safe passage and refuge in your forest," Aragorn said to the new Elf.

"And we know what you possess, the Lady Galadriel sees so many that wish to hide," the Elf flicked his eyes over the Hobbits.

"Will you permit us still?" Aragorn pressed, "We have wounded, and one that needs your help desperately,"

This time the Elf looked over at Draco, standing slightly stooped, with Harry on his back. Draco's grey eyes held the Elf's with defiance and daring. Harry shifted in his perch, and it drew Draco's attention back to him.

"You bring great evil here, and many enemies," The Elf said, returning his gazed to Aragorn, "Lothlorien, like Rivendell, cannot hold off the forces of both Isenguard and Mordor. It would not be wise for us to admit you."

If that wasn't a blatant, bloody _diplomatic_ refusal, Draco would have bit his tongue in half.

"So you wish for Mordor and Isenguard to take the whole of Middle Earth," He stated dryly.

"We do not wish to trouble ourselves in the affairs of men," The Elf answered, blandly.

Huh. So they were going to play the high and mighty 'superior to your race' card, were they?

"It is not simply the affairs of men any longer. Do you have to fool yourselves that you are not apart of this war until they are breathing down your neck? We just came from the Mines of Moria, where the Dwarfs have been massacred and their home taken over by Orcs. Is that close enough for your to believe that you are not already in danger?" Draco stepped forward carefully, looking at the other Elves surrounding them with their bows still aimed on the group.

"Look at yourselves! We ask you for help; just for protection and passage as we try to save you from Sauron, and you treat us like enemies! Is it really better to pretend that nothing of importance is happening and treat those who know differently as inferior?" Draco scoffed. He stared hard into the Elf's eyes in front of him.

"The one who is on my back, the one who needs your help, was not even _born_ in his world and he is willing to risk himself, his own _life_ to save it from evil. And what do you say in the face of his sacrifices? 'We do not wish to trouble ourselves in the affairs of men.' Well, you are apart of this world, this _dying_ place, whether you acknowledge it or not!" Draco breathed in and out deeply, trying not to give in to the urge to either scream or strangle out of pure frustration.

"Would it really be so horrible to give us aid?" he asked quietly, his tone completely different and soft, "We will not stay long, we just need to rest and some insight as to why Harry," He gestured with his head toward his back, "will not heal properly."

There was silence. The Elf stared at him critically, his face impassive.

"Please," he asked, letting his worry and fear show willingly for the first time in his life not in front of his family. To a man he did not even know.

It was one of those moments of small relief that Draco was glad they were in another world. It was brief, and went unnoticed with all the tumultuous worry and hope he had. He was berating himself for yelling at them at all, but he did not think they would respond will to groveling. And he was not going to waste his time on useless things…

…waste Harry's time…

"We will take you to our Lady," the Elf finally spoke, gesturing to the warriors surrounding him as turned back.

Draco did not need to turn around to see the incredulous faces of the group to know he shared their blank and wide-eyed expression. That had worked?

He had essentially called them cowards in every sense except actually naming them so, and they agreed to let them in?

_Well_, Draco thought satisfactorily, _Insult their pride with diplomatic reason and you can get them to do what you want. I have to keep them in mind for the future…_

Draco smile sadly at his observation. _Of course, that's probably because pride is one of the only things they have left…_

He followed them without another word.

XXXXXXXX

…So? What did you think this time? Yup it is the longest chapter so far, and a major change of pace if you ask me.

What? You're going to hurt me for hurting Harry? Well that's just not good… *hides in a bomb shelter in secret part of the world*

I'm so sorry! It had to happen though, and before you say that he took too much of the credit for the fights in this chapter, Draco is not used to any of this, and Harry is too willing to sacrifice himself because he is so used to it.

Sad, right? I know. Both boys are pretty screwy, though.

The real question is, am I going to fix that or make it worse? Have fun guessing and tune in next chapter for more!

AND THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEW, ALERTED, AND FAVORITED MY STORY! I LOVE IT WHEN I SEE IT IN MY EMAIL BOX!!

Again, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, and I will get back to you ASAP.

See you soon!

**Next Chapter: Book Two Chapter 10: Rest and Decisions**


	10. Chapter 10 Book Two: Rest and Decisions

**Author's Note!!!**

Sorry it took so long for this one…I had technical difficulties over the past week or so. No matter now! Hope the wait was worth it.

As for the dedication…. (Drum roll…)

**boredom is a crime!**

Because I love your name, one, and two, because your review made me laugh. I mean, how many stories are there where Harry _doesn't_ get hurt? Lol. Hope you like this one boredom, because it's for you!

**Read and Review and the next one maybe for you! Love you, all my dangerously beautiful readers out there!**

**Book Two Chapter 10: Rest and Decisions**

Draco didn't have to worry about meeting with their Lady at first – an Elf took Gandalf from Boromir and told Draco to follow her. He was led to a roofless room with two spacious twin beds that stood across from each other. She set Gandalf down on one and Draco, with his best gentleness, cautiously sat down upon the other and maneuvered the unconscious Harry to lie on his back. He had never seen the other look so pale before, even when he had first met the boy.

Draco removed his robe from Harry and was loathe seeing that the make-shift bandages had a large dark stain on them. He looked hopelessly at the white-robed brunette Elf who had come over to observe the second patient. Her face was passive, though, which told him nothing as she unwound the dirtied bindings. Another Elf came to her side, a black-haired man whose expression was similar to her own. He instructed Draco to leave with no room for argument or question in his command.

Draco hated feeling like the unnecessary observer. Worse, he hated knowing that he was useless.

He could not set himself to idly wait by the door of the hospital-like room, either. It was around this point when he finally noticed the beauty of their forest home. The trees became tall, fascinating buildings with no telling how many rooms or wonders they held. The stairs and open courtyards melded into the woods like they had been grown from the earth themselves instead of built. He wished he could have lived in such a place, of at least had the pleasure of visiting one without all the current duress. It may as well have been the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, because he knew that there would never be another chance to see another wonder like this one.

He found the group soon enough, and they were quieter than usual. He had the vague impression that the Lady Galadriel was responsible for their uneasy contemplations, a question on their faces that they had not been considering before. He wondered if he should be so unlucky to meet the woman herself, given the sudden dreary funk that Mary and Pippin were in, the liveliest of their party by far. But, an hour or so after meeting with them again, an Elf came and told him that he was summoned to her audience.

Draco reluctantly followed the Elf to one of the many open courtyards that was surrounded by a tight copse of tall trees. There was a small waterfall and tiny river that flowed on one side of the clearing, and a round stone basin in the center whereby stood a tall, blond and startlingly ocean blue-eyed woman in sweeping pristine robes. Her beauty alone made her stand apart from the rest of the Elves, but it was her presence, the peaceful and divine feeling that encircled her that made her truly unique from them.

Draco recalled a similar impression from a marble sculpture he had seen once, but even that could not compare to her perfection. But, oddly enough, he was not attracted to her in the least. It was like admiring a painting or the forest around him, not a person. This, he assumed, was what made him so unsure as to how to act or speak with her.

"Draco," she began, "You need not be so nervous in my presence; I am merely here to guide you, like you have been before,"

_Oh, in the name of all things good and Slytherin…_ He pleaded within himself, just barely managing to stop himself from groaning aloud, _Not ANOTHER bloody spirit guide!_

The Lady Galadriel smiled lightly, as if she was quite amused at his thoughts. He would not put it past her to be a mind reader, for what did he know of the magical creatures of this world?

"If you are here to help me, then tell me that Harry can be cured," He got straight to what he wanted to know, not really in the mood for any deep and philosophical advice or any more tasks to be burdened with.

"He shall be healed, but will retain a scar that may never fade," she answered, the faint smile growing wider, "But do not worry; he will not be cursed any longer. However, I must warn you that the next leg of your journey will be unlike the others you may have faced before. Much more dangerous, to your body and to your mind," Lady Galadriel's expression did not change as she told him this.

He blinked and considered her words. What here could endanger their minds? He understood perfectly well what could cause them harm physically, but mentally? He shivered.

"And how do we get out of here? Do we just follow Frodo and assist him whenever he needs help?" He asked, trying not to think of her previous words.

"You are to follow Aragorn wherever he may go," She said.

Draco's brows furrowed. So…he was supposed to follow Aragorn…and Aragorn was going to follow Frodo…what was the difference? Did she see them separating any time soon?

"Do not dwell too much on this; the answer will come without need of contemplation. You are tired and need to rest, please take advantage of this haven you have come to," She motioned for him to leave, and that was that. He wondered what was to become of them in this world, almost ten times more wary of what could happen to them next now.

He went back to the room where they were keeping Harry, and was surprised when he found the door open. His eyes quickly judging the room to be empty with the exception of those in the beds, he entered with soft steps.

Gandalf, he saw, was in no different a state then when he came, sans his robe, which now had a white one in place of it. His face seemed much younger in his unnatural sleep, the lines born from anxiety and wisdom unmarred in relaxation.

He walked in further and turned to the other bedside. Harry still had no shirt on, but his features, much like Gandalf's, were smoothed in sleep. It was clear that he was no longer in pain, and Draco felt a flare of anger that the Elf healers had not let him sit in and show him a thing or two about their abilities. To be able to remove such a strong curse in a short time was a real diamond amongst many a power…

But none of that mattered. Harry was going to be alright, and he did not have to take a corpse back home when the time came. He lifted the blanket slightly, seeing that Harry was bandaged with clean binding tightly, but not constricting, over his muscles. He noticed that much like his own, Harry's middle and chest had been sculpted finely by all the training and their weeks of travel.

He pulled the blanket back up and around Harry's shoulders. His hands stayed there as he looked upon the raven's face. He could not stop his hand from reaching out and smoothing back the dark hair, revealing the famous scar. His fingers of the same hand trailed over the raise in his forehead lightly as his eyes followed the curve of his nose, the brush of his eyelashes, the line of his cheek and jaw, and the stark flush of color in his mouth that contrasted his features…

Draco's cheeks darkened greatly when he saw that his hand had fallen to the side of Harry's face, and that he had been staring for an inconsiderable amount of time at…

Well, he had been staring at his _rival_ with something other than rage or hate, and that was not acceptable in the least. He had saved the guy from dying; he had repaid him for saving him from the demon. That was it. He took his hands away and proceeded back to where the group was staying for the evening.

XXXXXXXXXX

The next day was highly eventful. In fact, Draco was roused by an argument between Aragorn and Boromir…

"We cannot afford such a convenience! Mordor grows in strength without pause, and us staying here any longer is suicide!" Boromir stressed.

"Gandalf and Harry are just in need of a few days rest, we cannot abandon them now! They are the only reason we survived in the mines!" Aragorn pressed, waving an arm back to address the past.

Boromir groaned, "But they are injured and we do not even know if Gandalf will recover at all! Surely this mission is more important than waiting for their recovery; we have only one thing that is working in our favor, and not much of it! TIME! If we do not give them the opportunity to gain more power, then it will be the easier to get past their guard."

"And if we don't have the protection necessary to-" Aragorn started.

"Enough!"

Both Boromir and Aragorn spun towards Draco, their hands on their weapons by instinct alone. He looked between them, running a hand through his hair.

"You both have a point, alright?" Draco practically growled, annoyed at losing what little sleep he could have achieved in the early morning. "So let's compromise,"

They shared one last heated glare before looking at the blond again.

"You should leave now, to gain whatever ground you can towards our goal," Draco continued, putting a hand up at Aragorn's objection, "I will put a spell on you to tell us where you are when we are ready and recovered. There, does that sound like a plan?"

Boromir nodded, but Aragorn asked, "Does that mean that you will be staying here until they are healed?"

Draco nodded, "I need to make sure that Harry is actually ready before he does something to hurt himself worse, which he might,"

"What of Gandalf?"

"Like Boromir said…If he is awake by the time Harry is ready, then one of us will wait for him until he is recovered and the other will come with you. If not, then…the Elves have already consented to taking care of him for longer if necessary." Draco was saddened by this, having grown fond of the quirky and easy-going man, but he could see the devastation in Aragorn and Legolas's eyes. Legolas had been listening the entire time with not a single comment, not seeing any real input that could take away their quarrel.

So, the now 'separated' Fellowship had agreed. Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Mary, and Pippin would continue, and Draco would stay to watch over their temporarily invalid companions. Their sendoff was quiet, but the reassurance that they had gained from only a few moments with the Lady Galadriel was invaluable. They were to travel in canoes until they reached the falls a few miles away and cross the river there.

As soon as they were out of sight, Draco returned to the room where the other two lay to see if anything had changed during the night. Apart from a healthier coloring on Harry's skin, there was nothing. The Elves seemed confident that he would wake soon. The same was not said for Gandalf, but no one was really sure why he was still asleep. They hoped that it was a healing sleep, in the least.

The next day, they removed Harry's bandages, and a white-beige scar was the only thing to remind of the gruesome, infected wound. He did not, however, wake up until the following morning.

Draco sat in a wicker-like seat near Harry's bedside studying one of the potions books that they had brought when the raven's eyes fluttered open. After several moments of deep breathing, Harry rubbed a hand over his face and sat up groaning.

"Harry?" Draco addressed him quietly.

"Hmm…?" Emerald eyes found Draco, "Draco…Where am I?"

Draco would not let himself be startled by his intense gaze, which should have been impossible for just waking up. "In Lothlorien Forest, or so I'm told."

Harry nodded, as if he had heard of the place before.

"Are you…I mean, do you feel alright?" Draco asked hesitantly.

Harry looked at him closely again, before his eyes and hand flew to his stomach, and he out lined the new scar with disbelief. He exhaled with great fervor before falling back onto the bed heavily.

"I thought I was going to die…" He said, to no one in particular.

"Sorry to disappoint," Draco said, with a twitch of a smile on his lips.

"That's not the bad thing…" Harry ground out.

"What is then?" Draco wondered laughingly.

"I'm getting used to the bloody feeling." Harry breathed out, and chuckled lethargically.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By that afternoon, Harry felt he had the strength to travel and fight, saying he had slept three days and that was enough. They were flying to meet the group anyway.

Seeing as both their sets of clothes were sufficiently stained and or ruined, and they were not equipped with quality travel attire in the first place, the Elves refitted them in their finest.

Draco wore black breeches with a silver and black leather belt and black boots that came to his knees. They gave him an unbreakable, slice-through-any-kind-of-material knife that tucked into the outside of his right calf where no one could see it. He also wore a blue and grey embroidered long-sleeved tunic with a black leather shoulder holster for his double sword staff. The last gift they gave him was an Elfish enchanted cloak, just like they gave Harry one.

Harry was in brown knee-high boots and dark tan breeches with a brown and gold braided leather belt and a green and gold embroidered tunic. Instead of a boot knife, they gave him a shield with an emblem of a prancing Pegasus that they said symbolized hope and fierceness in battle. He also got a waist sheath for his blade, which made access much easier for future use.

For awhile, (and they both teased one another relentlessly for this) all they could do was stare in the mirror at their new attire. They could not thank the Elves enough in their departure. Lady Galadriel came forward then, meeting Harry for the first time. She gave them her best blessings, and kissed their foreheads in farewell.

They kicked off moments later, Draco flying slightly ahead of Harry.

"How far?" Harry asked over the wind resistance.

"I think we should be to them in about hour," Draco felt on the pull of his spell that he had placed on Aragorn. Barley a minute over Draco's guess, they spotted Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli standing at the river bank. They landed two yards away with a lightness that made no sound. They promptly shrunk their brooms and walked up behind the three, making no effort to hide their footsteps, but ended up surprising them anyway.

"Hello," Harry said, puzzled when he saw the three jump slightly.

"Harry…Draco," Aragorn nodded to both of them gravely.

"What is the matter?" Draco asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Boromir…has fallen," Gimli answered, turning to the canoe that was in front of them. In it lay the burly man himself, paler and stiff in the skinny boat.

Harry immediately moved forward, looking down into the craft. "What happened?" He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"We were ambushed…by the Orcs," Aragorn said.

"I thought that they could not move in the sunlight?" Draco looked alarmed.

"These were manufactured by Sauron, they bore his white hand**" Legolas explained quietly. "They have overcome the sun, it seems."

"Then where is everyone else?" Harry looked alarmed, "Are they..?"

"No," Aragorn turned toward them, "Mary and Pippin were taken by the Orcs, and Frodo and Sam continued on their own,"

"So…What are we going to do?" Draco asked, "If we follow Frodo and Sam, then we doom Mary and Pippin…"

"Frodo and Sam will be alright," Aragorn nodded to himself, "We have to believe that they will succeed, but we cannot leave the other two to suffer with those monsters."

"We will rescue those young Hobbits," Gimli said firmly. The rest agreed heartily and they started after the two good-humored Hobbits with fierce determination.

XXXXXXXX

It was fortunate, just as it was unfortunate, that they were tracking an army of Orcs, because of the wide trail they left behind. It was unfortunate because the beasts seemed to need very little rest at all.

Most of the time, Harry and Draco ran with the other three, but when it became too much they would follow on broomstick, often letting Aragorn, Legolas, or Gimli to ride with them if they were tired too. While they were crossing a fairly open plain two days after their quest began, Aragorn called out to Legolas, who was in the lead.

"Legolas, what do your Elf eyes see?"

"They're tracking back to the northeast over to a wood." He paused and looked further into the distance. "They're taking the Hobbits to Isenguard!"(A/N: LOL! Seriously, there's a video called that, and anytime I think about it, it cracks me up! Check it out if you have the time…) he exclaimed in realization.

They all heard a curse come from Gimli, and pressed on harder. A few miles later the next day, they spotted a band of horsemen racing down a slope and Aragorn, recognizing the banner they flew, called out to them. It seemed like the right thing to do…

…Until they were staring down the ends of twenty spear points.

"Tell me," the one who was obviously their leader came forward in the circle of horses that surrounded them, "What business does an Elf, a Dwarf, and three men have in these parts?"

"We came looking for our companions who were taken by a group of Orcs and traveled this way," Aragorn explained. "Do you have any news of them, or of Théoden, your king?"

The man on the horse dismounted and removed his helmet, bowing slightly in sadness, "Theodin no longer recognizes friend from foe, not even his own kin," It was the king's nephew, Aoden. "His mind is poisoned by a man called Wormtongue, and he will not listen to reason."

Aragorn looked highly distressed at this, knowing that Theodin was king of a great horse people. He was interrupted in his thoughts when Aoden spoke again.

"As for your Orcs, we slaughtered a group of those not far from here, up that slope some ways," He finished his speech.

"There were Hobbits with them," Gimli said excitedly. "Did you see two Hobbits?"

Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "They are small; they would be but children in your eyes,"

Aoden looked down again before saying, "We left none alive," Aoden saw the devastation in all of their faces, and he paused and whistled back to his group. Four horses came forward, a grey-marbled white one, a dark tan one, a black one, and a brown one that had a reddish tint even in the shade.

"Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope," Aoden mounted again, "They are forsaken, these lands," then he rode off, leaving the five with the four horses and a sad air of grim foreboding.

Aragorn took the dark tan mare, Legolas with a grumbling Gimli riding behind took the brown-red stallion, Harry on the grey and white mare, and Draco took the black one. They rode up the slope to the burning battle ground (Harry watching the others ride and following as best he could, not willing to admit he had never been on a horse before,) and they dismounted at the edge of the graveyard.

The warriors had burned the carcasses and their weapons, and the five could only look on in growing horror and depression. Their feelings were only gratified when they found the charred remnants of a knife-sheath belt that belonged to Pippin.

Aragorn cried out in anguish and anger with the article in his shaking fist, falling to his knees. Their heads were bowed and they were trying to contain their own sadness.

Moments later, they were drawn from their reveries when Aragorn was once more on the move, crouched and concentrating on the ground in front of him. They followed with silent curiosity, wondering what could be so important now. When they reached the edge of a large forest, he paused and looked deeply into its depths.

"They escaped and ran into the Fangorn Forest, their tracks lead away from the fray, and they are fresh," he said excitedly, knowing that his skills of hunting were hardly ever wrong. They were all about to enter the wood when a familiar voice stopped them.

"You need not worry over those two any more; I have seen to it that they are well protected,"

They turned and saw that it was Gandalf, dressed in pristine white robes. His hair and beard were immaculate and white as well, and he was holding a new white ornate staff.

"Gandalf…But how are you here?" Aragorn asked, somewhere between happy and suspicious.

"While in Lothlorien, I was dying, I will not lie about that. But it seems that my work here is not yet finished, and I was sent back." He said, and he gestured to his robes, "And while I was once Gandalf the Grey, I am now Gandalf the White, and can wield better and purer magic than before."

"That is fantastic!" Legolas said, clapping Gandalf lightly on the shoulder. "But what is this work that you are meant to accomplish?"

"It starts in King Théoden's home, I fear. The darkness has fallen hard there, almost as corrupt as in Gondor." And he whistled, and a white horse appeared. They all gathered their horses and remounted, following Gandalf to Theodin's keep.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Find more cheer in a graveyard," was Gimli's comment on seeing the outer town of Theodin's kingdom. It was probably true.

Hardly any sound came from all the people milling around them with tragic faces. They watched the six on horse back wearily, with a sort of resignation, as if to say, 'They maybe dangerous, they may be here to kill us…

But it's not like we can do a thing about it…'

It was heart-breaking, and one of the most devastating things that either of the two boys had seen. Harry could only force himself to keep his eyes on Gandalf, otherwise he feared that he might have jumped off his horse and try to help them, to tell them that it would be alright, he would save them…even if it wasn't true or possible, just to get them to stop looking so dead, apathetic.

Draco couldn't help but be disgusted by their obvious surrender. It was like they were waving a white flag and holding up a sign saying 'kill us now, we won't mind!'. He bit his cheek to hold back a growl of disapproval. He knew that they had suffered, that they would probably suffer even more before the end of the war, but to give up so blatantly…

He hoped that there would never be a day when he saw the same defeat in the eyes of wizards or witches in his own world. He didn't know what he would do if that happened. Sure, he wasn't forgiving or kind in many ways, but he would never wish for _this_ on anyone…

They dismounted at the base of the stair leading to the courtyard before the throne room. The state of the throne entrance and room was not any better than the people's disposition. The once proud banners were tearing and the cobblestone was cracking harshly. Just as they were about to enter the room, though, they were stopped and asked to relent their weapons by five or six guards, fully armored. They asked for Gandalf's staff as well, but he said imploringly, "You would not deprive an old man his walking stick, would you?" At the looks on their faces, Draco almost let loose a sharp laugh. Didn't they know how powerful that thing was?

Obviously not, he chuckled in his thoughts. They were allowed to enter, 'weaponless', as they were. The haggard men and soldiers stared as they walked down the long aisle in the center, towards the over aged King and a dark crouched figure that occupied his right arm. The figure was pasty faced and sickly, with shifty eyes and long bony fingers that held the King's arm as he whispered into the King's ear.

_Wormtongue_, Harry felt the name highly appropriate.

"The greatness of your house seemed to have somewhat lessened, King Théoden," Gandalf called out as they approached, setting everyone around them on the defensive, reaching for their weapons indiscreetly.

"And why should I welcome you Gandalf...stormcrow?" The hallowed man on the throne asked, unsure and looked to Wormtongue to clarify. The pasty man nodded, ignoring the mistake in title and walked toward the group, saying,

"A just question, my liege," He folded his arms in front of himself, straightening as tall as he could, but he was scarcely taller than Gimli with his twisted back. "Late is the hour in which you arrive-"

"Quiet." Gandalf demanded, "Keep that horrid tongue behind your teeth," He pointed the staff in Wormtongue's face, and the darkly dressed man backed away.

"His staff..." He growled, "I told you to take away his staff!" he yelled at the guards, who started charging at the group to obey his wishes.

Aragorn threw the first punch, followed by Legolas. They fended off the guards racing at Gandalf as the wizard in white moved closer to Théoden, walking up the steps that led to his throne. Harry and Draco would kick and punch, adding a little air-bending to make their hits a mite harder and knock them back. Gandalf wielded his staff and spelled at the King, forcing the one controlling Théoden to release their hold on him. When he was successful, the King's heavily aged appearance melted away, revealing a man of just over forty. The mind control had taken its toll on him, but no longer.

There were a few moments of silence as the King regained himself. The disorientation faded from his eyes, and he took his sword when Gandalf offered it to him. He looked around his throne room, and fixated on Wormtongue. The sickly man looked as if he were about to soil himself, and he was promptly chased out of the kingdom by the furious Théoden.

"All hail our ruler, King Théoden," called out one of his soldiers, and the people bowed to their restored king as he stood in the streets watching the traitorous worm flee the keep. A spark of life seemed to have returned to them, but it was small.

_Hopefully they will come out of their own spell,_ Harry thought, seeing their premature aging and behavior as almost similar to their previously possessed King's. At least the King seemed fired up, looking for a fight.

XXXXXXXX

AUTHOR: And that's it, my longest chapter so far… Sorry if it got away from Harry and Draco in the end of it, there will be a lot of them in the next one. I needed to show how they got to where they were and establish a new character.

So, did you like? Come on, don't be shy! Reviews are loved and appreciated. I love story alerts and favorites just as much, though!

Next Chapter:

**Book Two Chapter 11: The Coming and What Comes After…**


	11. Chapter 11 Book Two: The Coming

**Author's Note!!!**

Sorry about last chapter people, and how it got off the Harry and Draco track for a while, but I needed to set the scene and all that good stuff, as boring as it was to write some of it. Hope that you liked it anyway. This chapter is much better, I promise, cause it focuses on them a lot more, and foreshadows a little too, if you squint. Don't look too hard, you might get an aneurism if you do, lol.

Without further ado, I dedicate this chapter to…

**Rala!**

My newest reviewer, thanks for commenting on so many chapters! I hope that you agree that this chapter is better than the last. There's only a little movie recap in the beginning, but after it will all be from either Harry or Draco's view. I'm glad that you enjoyed the crossovers, there will be one more, and you will not know when! The next book is not a cross over at all, just a hint.

Review after Reading, and I will be Updating! Love you all, continue to support and I will try not to disappoint.

**Book Two Chapter 11: The Coming and What Comes After…**

The throne room was quite different now. Its tapestries and banners were mended and the fires were roaring. Théoden's men were less shifty as well, as if they felt more comfortable in this situation.

Now was when they should have been the most nervous…

"Your lands are being closed in, the towns on the fringe are attacked more and more as the days pass," Gandalf reported firmly, "You need to amount an attack of your own; gather your forces swiftly."

"You want me to start an open war?" Théoden asked, a little angry and surprised.

"Open war is upon you," Aragorn said, "Whether you believe it or not,"

Théoden gave Aragorn a hard look before he spoke again. "I know what you ask of me, but I will not bring any more harm to my people. We will go to Helm's Deep," and that was the end of the conversation.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gandalf was fuming, much like he did when Mary or Pippin were especially annoying.

"Helm's Deep! That place is a death trap," Gandalf growled.

"Théoden is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn reasoned.

"Be that as it may, there is only one way in and out of the keep…" He sighed. They followed him into the stables, where he led his horse out and mounted it. He looked down on them and continued, "The road to the keep is very open, be on your guard. I am going to do what I can to find help,"

"You're leaving us?" Legolas asked, curious and a little down-hearted.

"I will come back. You have two very capable wizards who have more than proven themselves, do not worry about it," He straightened in his seat, and spoke softly to Aragorn before clicking his heels into the horse and riding off.

"I don't see how he could call you capable; with you almost nearly yourself killed every chance you get," Draco smirked.

"Says the idiot who tried to protect himself from a gigantic whip with his bare arms," Harry smirked back, rolling his eyes.

But even as they snipped at each other and prepared for the journey, Harry felt a weight that he had almost forgotten about return. It was the hard pull of responsibility, of expectation, something he should have been used to. To him, it was a heavy thing that only dragged on his body, grinding against his psyche, wounding him as the pressure increased with every waking moment. A small part of him had hoped that being in a different place, away from the misplaced fans and Voldemort's demented watch would give him a break, a release from reality…

It had been fine in the Avatar's world, only really grating on him right before they left. It had been fine when they began travelling with the Fellowship, but then…

Boromir died. Mary and Pippin were stolen, Frodo and Sam continued on their own. Gandalf's careful guiding and almost playful nature had all but disappeared with his transformation into Gandalf the White. Even Legolas and Gimli had lost their bantering. It was as taxing as being back home…

_Is this what the necklace wants to show me?_ He asked himself, _that it could be so much worse? That the entire world could __**already**__ be falling?_ He had never asked for much in his life, just that he wished for his friends and surrogate family to be safe and that Voldemort would leave off. He would give his life for that, no question. He had a feeling that that was the true price for the destruction of the Death Eaters and their leader. He just hoped that no one else would have to suffer any more before he was prepared to fight the final fight…

That was another thing. He knew that he was prone to putting himself in harm's way as a fact of his general existence, but he hated it when his friends wanted to join him. Had forcefully done so, so many times. It tore him in two when they did that; one half of him glad that they were willing to help him no matter what, and the other half simply _screaming_, _begging_ have them listen and keep away so that he could deal with the big badies and they could be safe at Hogwarts playing wizards chess and wait for him to return. If he ever did.

His thoughts plagued him deep into the night, as he stared at the red wall of his tent.

XXXXXXXXX

The move, even with all the people from the town, would only take a day or less. Harry and Draco had given up their horses to a couple of families who needed help carrying their possessions. They were walking with Legolas and Aragorn, somewhere in the middle of the long line of people. The townsfolk were in a much better mood, that was easy to see. Helm's Deep was obviously a very safe haven in their minds, and Harry wished that it was just as strong as they hoped, so it could shelter them from any and every harm. He hated to think what was to happen to the kids if the stronghold fell.

At that moment, thinking about the well being of the townspeople, he felt a chilling, burning, and was suddenly completely uncomfortable in his skin. Biting sensations started dancing over his feet, making his muscles twitch in protest as they traveled up his legs.

Something was wrong. What he was feeling was not fear; it felt like a warning. The earth was...Warning him? He listened carefully, but did not hear anything past the shuffling of feet and quiet clambering. This did not settle him, the foreboding only heightened at the absence of justification for the feeling. 100 yards later, and the call of alarm was still there. He pulled out his broom.

"How close are we to the keep?" He asked.

"Only a few more miles or so," Aragorn said, gazing ahead.

"I'm going to look around a bit. I'll meet you at the keep when I'm through," Aragorn nodded at his announcement, but Draco looked suspicious. Harry walked away from the line, and the blond followed.

"What's up?" Draco asked gravely, not liking the expression Harry wore.

"You...You don't feel anything?" Harry stared out, not wanting to meet Draco's eyes.

"Feel what? Why are you so tense?" Draco narrowed his eyes, annoyed that Harry looked so disconcerted.

"I just...I think something's wrong. I don't know what...That's why I'm just going to fly around a bit, see if I can find out if I'm just worrying over nothing," Harry mounted his broom. "Keep close to the group, and ring me if something happens,"

Draco bristled slightly at the order, not wanting to obey Harry. He tried to shove his protest down, seeing how out of it Harry was. He nodded, and Harry took off.

XXXXX

Harry flew out and then up, staring at the huge wall that had been erected between the walls of a narrow valley. Helm's deep. It seemed sturdy enough, and quiet. Nothing there. He watched the line of people, now reminding him of ants, worm toward it, and saw nothing trailing behind them, either.

Well…fuck. That didn't help much. Not that he was hunkering for some unwanted trouble, but there was something not right, at all. And he couldn't even see it!

He wasn't going to question his mental state…Nope, not again. He continued avidly searching for the problem, to make it tangible and not a figment of his imagination. Hell, he'd be glad for just a mountain lion or bear that was following the people too close at this point.

He noticed that his nerves had calmed slightly the higher he went. He turned away from the gathering and flew out further before touching the ground again, testing. The dread of something wicked permeated his being strongly, and he knew that he was on the right track. Harry flew up just above the canopy of the small wood and ten miles or so later, behind the crest of a wide hill, he saw it.

_Them._

A gigantic mass of black, marching hellions that were called Orcs. Their numbers seemed never-ending…it sent his heart pounding a hundred times its normal speed and left his mouth dry. They were headed for Helm's Deep, that was certain.

_Fuck!_

_A lot of good swearing about it will do me_, he thought to himself after a moment. The size didn't matter, should not matter. Magic was just as powerful, and he had to believe that he was just as powerful, if not more, than the army in front of him. He knew that it was impossible for him to be able to tackle the entire thing by himself, but he could damn well weaken it, he thought with determination.

He flew at them without a second hesitation, letting his anger and hate swell above all else in his mind and heart. He couldn't help wondering what was happening at the keep though, thinking about what was happening with the other wizard from his world…

XXXXXXXXX

Hours later at the keep, Draco was pacing in the hall that served as the new throne room. The others were all occupied with discussions about managing the compound, keeping the morale up, and all other manner of conversation and worry…

Except for talk of one raven haired emerald-eyed wizard who had yet to return to them. It felt as if he was waiting outside that mine exit again, desperate to know what he could not see, but all the while knowing that it was not anything good. The rest of the journey to the keep went without a hitch, and Draco was contemplating whether or not to actually search for Harry, to try and contact him using the mirrors.

But he didn't want to seem like a worried child, wondering if he would be able to see his puppy again soon. He winced at the analogy in his mind. Puppy and Potter did not go together in any sense, because Harry was not needy or clingy in the least. And he wasn't cute either…

No, he was just bloody sexy-

Draco shook his head fiercely. He was _not_ going down that road again; the weird occurrence at Lothlorien was the last of it. No more _unwanted_, _unwarranted_ thoughts of those sorts about Potter.

Said sexy – _no more, damnit!_ – teen waltzed into the hall not two minutes later, looking winded and rushed. He walked to the King and Aragorn, who were standing near one another at the end of the hall. He spoke to then in hushed tones, not wanting anyone else to hear. The sudden pale looks on their faces worried everyone else in the room enough as it was.

"And you are sure that..." Théoden asked aloud.

"Yes, they are coming this way," Harry answered solemnly. Théoden turned away in deep thought. It didn't take him long to summon his guard and issued the order, "Gather every capable man and dress them for battle. Bring the women and children into the room underneath this one and barricade the doors. It seems we have no other choice... prepare for a fight tonight."

Draco, still on the other side of the room, stood stunned. So soon? What had Harry seen? Hell, what had that imbecile done?

He watched as Harry stalked back toward the door to the throne room, and looked straight into his eyes. There was something more he did not tell the King.

Draco didn't ask how he knew that only by seeing Harry up close, but it had him following Harry the next second. Harry went down the narrow paths of the keep until he reached an unoccupied, crumbling hole-in-the-wall room, but it still provided cover. Draco watched as Harry gently removed his cloak and satchel, setting them on the ground. Harry's expression was pinched. Slowly, even more gently, he removed the tunic he was wearing and revealed the cuts and a puncture wound in his side.

"I'm sorry, but... you're better at it.... would you?" Harry asked brokenly. Draco gawked at the bleeding cuts and the request. His eyes hardened and he pulled off the water bag hanging from his shoulder.

As he bended the water he spoke, "Do you get off on pain, you moron? It seems anywhere you go; you have to let somebody take a souvenir from you,"

"I didn't see the archers until it was already too late," Harry sighed and winced and Draco cleansed and healed him, "There were so many... I had to do something,"

"How many?" Draco asked, wondering how difficult the coming night would be.

"I couldn't count them all, but if I had to guess..." Harry moaned slightly as Draco worked on the puncture in his side, "I'd say somewhere around 10,000, maybe more."

"T-Ten thousand?!" Draco almost shouted in panic. There maybe a rather large wall protecting them, but if the Orcs had archers and knew that they were coming here, they probably other means to get around the protection.

"Bloody hell..." He breathed out. "How do we even stand a chance?"

"I attacked them on my own and survived without too many scratches." Harry said.

"Yes, well, what about the rest of us who don't have some sort of guardian angel looking after their arse?" Draco remarked sarcastically. "And you call these scratches?" He flicked one for emphasis.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to contain a groan, "Bastard," he muttered.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco shook his head, and finished fixing Harry up. "I just hope that we're strong enough," He commented lightly, trying to pass off the seriousness of the situation.

"I do too," Harry said, looking forlorn. He pulled on his tunic and cloak again, walking out to the edge of the wall. The expanse of the valley and the horizon was breath taking in the twilight, and Harry sighed again.

"Why is this place so fucked up? I've never seen anywhere more beautiful, not even Hogwarts," Harry closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. "It's like some sort of cruel joke,"

"I don't see anyone laughing," Draco stood next to the raven, sighing. Silence stretched out between them, and they both stared out into the distance, not saying another word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The night crept up quickly on them. Soldiers; some too young, some too old, and hardly any in between, lined up at the bottom level behind the wall. Elfish archers had arrived to aid at the last moments of sunset, and they stood at the top of the wall. Few human archers were beside them. Harry and Draco were positioned on their brooms above the wall, and they watched as the dark army marched further into the valley.

It started to rain as the Orcs stopped before the thick wall. There was a great pause as both sides fidgeted and waited for the first attack to be thrown. An arrow flew from one of the human men on the wall, and took down an Orc in the front line.

That drove everyone else to move. Legolas commanded the archers to shoot, and the Orcs began to push on the wall, bringing forward several tall ladders with hooks on the end.

The ladders were Harry and Draco's queue. They swerved and dove, taking down and breaking few of them. Then the catapults started to fire on the keep, and Harry went to take care of them. There had to be at least twenty or more of the huge things, so were an untold amount of the confounded ladders, which blended in with the Orc's dark skin and the night's shade.

Draco was vastly glad for the rain. He could gather if from any of the large puddles forming and slice the ladders to pieces in moments. There were more than he could handle, but he didn't stop cutting them, even after he became the Orc's new favorite target practice game. A few times, he offed a couple of the archers with ice stakes out of pure frustration. He found his aim quickly improving the closer they got to hitting him. A disillusion charm only went so far when you were moving about as he was.

Harry was having similar problems, but there were fewer archers where he was flying. They just aimed some of the catapults at him to make up for it. He would pick up chunks of earth (most which still had Orcs on it) and use it to beat down the rock and fire-slingers. When most of the early-war machines had been effectively pulverized, he flew over to Draco to help.

He saw that Draco had made a pretty big pile of firewood for himself. His arm had been caught by an arrow, from either side. Harry fell into pace with the blond and the pile got bigger.

They were just as surprised as the rest when an Orc ran forward with a torch and blew the gigantic wall to high hell. The rock bits sprayed everywhere, hitting many from both sides.

After a pregnant pause, the Orcs swarmed forward.

Draco and Harry flew in low, dismounting and pocketing their brooms. The disturbance had caused many of their allies to run into the inner keep. Some of the unfortunate soldiers on the ground lay dead, sinking into the mud. When Harry saw that there were no allies standing between him and the Orc army, he sent a wave of fire that scattered and pushed them back, giving time to those that were struggling to find shelter.

He pulled his sword and felt it pulsate with the magic he was emanating. He felt a similar build up beside him, and was reassured that Draco would stay with him. Together, they pushed the army back…

And once more, they were lost in battle, adrenaline-lust.

Neither was very sure as to how they fought. They were unfocused on individual actions, just on the feel of excitement and lost in the heart-pounding dance of fighting. It didn't matter that the others had retreated; their synchronization, their togetherness was unbroken, but still unknown to them. They heard, and paused as one. A low, loud horn was blasted in the right tower of the keep, above all battle cries and fear.

The door to the throne room burst open and the King led a group on horses to push the Orcs back out of the keep: a final stand. That in combination with the new flare of magic that sprang from Harry and Draco in reaction to the King's ferocity had the Orcs fleeing the keep…

Only to be met by Gandalf and Aoden's men, who attacked on sight.

Those Orcs that could escaped and slipped past the warriors, while the rest were left to slaughter. Swords, knifes, and blunt weapons slashed and conked, stabbed and ripped in terrible noises and sprays of black blood. In their retreat, the Orcs lost all drive to fight back it seemed, and scrambled about meaninglessly until someone ended their misery.

It was the second time that Harry and Draco had been covered in blood. The first, Draco had not realized until he was in Lothorien after coming back to camp and he had scrubbed and cleaned his skin until it was bright red and his clothes until they almost had had holes in them. Harry had been asleep, and the Elves had seen to his bathing. But even the memory of the blood before did not create any sort of tolerance for it. The black blood of the Orcs was of the same consistency and feel as any other blood he had been faced with, and it was revolting.

He water-bended the stuff off of himself quickly and as apathetically as he could, trying hard not to think of what he had done to get it there. How he had forced his blade through flesh and bone, amputated…

Draco was very much in the same situation. He hadn't recognized himself while he was fighting, and the thoughts that had run through his mind as he cut and killed…

In this way, neither appreciated the celebration that sang and cheered around them.

Contemplating the potential that they had seen in themselves for something that they had never considered before… It would have been fine if they had been diligent, business-like and cold in their methods, but…

They realized, for the second time, that they had enjoyed it.

XXXXXX

A week later, Gondor, the human kingdom to the north, called for their help.

Théoden ordered his men and all the men they could find to heed the call. With only two nights rest and two full days of travel on horseback, they would be at Minas Tirith, the last kingdom of men of the old days.

It was a little weird at first, with all the looks they received for their method of travel. Harry and Draco rode their brooms, much slower than normal, next to the herd of manned horses. Draco didn't think he'd ever be more amused than with the wide-eyed awe that some of the soldiers stared with, and with the sparse banter with Harry to accompany him, it was almost too soon before the second night crept onto them.

Their tent had been set up and food 'prepared' on the blue blanket when they saw Lord Elrond walk into the King's tent, shortly followed by Aragorn. Not fifteen minutes later, Aragorn reappeared with a new sword at his side and began to saddle his horse. Harry refolded the banquet blanket before walking up to him with Draco not far behind.

"What was that all about?" He asked, eyeing the Elf Lord as he left the camp as inconspicuously as he had entered it.

"He wanted to talk with me of those who dwell in the mountain," Aragorn gestured with his head the huge rocky thing that they had made camp at the base of. He seemed a little agitated, but above all else weary. Like he was the one responsible for all the lives at stake in this war.

"Mountain dwellers?" Draco asked, sounding a little wary of Aragorn's tone.

"Aye, and we are going with him," Gimli walked up with Legolas beside him, a horse already saddled and led by the rein that Legolas held with them.

Aragorn smiled slightly at the commanding statement, glad that he had such friends.

Draco sighed and packed up the tent with a sweep of his arm and Harry stuffed the food blanket back into its satchel. They both pulled out their brooms and resized them, looking to Aragorn expectantly to led them.

"You do not have to journey with us. They will probably need you more here," Aragorn commented, raising an eyebrow at Draco's agitated expression.

"The Lady Galadriel told us we must follow you." Harry shrugged, "Besides, I sense a lot of magic in the mountain,"

"Its pretty suffocating," Draco eyed the rock with contempt.

Aragorn nodded and then mounted his horse. Not wanting to attract attention from the slowly settling camp, Harry and Draco followed the two horses on foot until they passed the trail entrance to the mountain.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two hours on horse and broom-back later, and they were faced with a rectangle stone archway leading into the depths of the mountain.

"This looks a lot like Moria..." Draco shifted on his perch.

As if his voice over the quiet triggered it, there was a strange noise coming from the opening. Two bright blue eyes glowed in the darkness, and the dismounted horses were spooked and ran off. Harry gulped and wished that he could do the same, before he heard the voice.

"_Who dares come to disturb this place, this grave in which I live..._?" it said. There was a moment in Harry's head that things didn't register, like why the others just seemed confused, until he suddenly understood.

"We come baring no ill will, we just wish to pass into the mountain," he answered in the ancient tongue that sounded like nonsense to everyone else.

"_Do you come with a sacrifice? The man in blue looks suitable enough, I have always preferred fair-haired offers_," The beast purred out.

Harry looked at Draco, a tad panicked.

"_Is that a yes? It has been so long.._." The huge metallic colored snake slithered from its captivity, making the group back up and put a hand to their weapons.

As the basilisk moved on Draco, Harry stepped in front of him at the last second, arms spread. "You will not be feasting on him," he hissed sharply.

"_You deny me food? You are foolish indeed_," The snake narrowed its slit eyes further, rearing back and letting out a threatening growl-like sound.

"Harry..." Draco said slowly, "What did you do to piss off a seventy foot basilisk?"

"You should be thanking me," Harry snarled back, smirking in the blond's direction, "It thinks you look fantastic for an appetizer,"

Draco glared at the remark and paled all at once. Then he stepped past Harry, a determined look on his face as he stood before the monster.

"Hey! Arsehole! You think you can take me?" He yelled at the snake.

"_Ooo, he's feisty. I always love a good hunt, start running now, maybe I will let you live a little longer...No promises though_," The snaked laughed.

"Is that bastard laughing at me?" He asked incredulous, "Are you laughing at me!"

When the thing winked at him, insulting him even further, Draco fumed. Without a second thought, he pulled the earth under the snake's belly up, then fashioned three cuffs around the body. The giant snake looked back at the restraints, amused before he began moving closer...

Or trying to. The basilisk still as soon as he started, tugging on himself but he could not move. He hissed loudly at Draco, who retained his trademark smirk.

"You are one big bloody bastard, I'll give you that," Draco said, "But against a wizard, you should know better,"

At Draco's taunt, the snake lunged forward, but found that a fourth cuff had been formed. His body thrashed back and forth, smacking the ground, and the hold did not break. The basilisk sagged after a few more struggles were found futile, and hissed softly at Harry, who looked like he was about to swallow his tongue. Harry hissed back, and then looked to Draco.

"He submits," Harry said.

"What? Of course he does, I've got him trapped," Draco huffed.

"No, I mean he said, 'I submit myself to my master,' " Harry shook his head.

Draco's eyes went impossibly wide. Then he looked smug. "First Slytherin since Salazar himself to have a basilisk under his control,"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hopefully I won't have to kill it this time,"

Draco glared at the raven, "You'll have to go through me for that to happen, you bloody arse,"

Harry hissed at the giant again, and it nodded in return. "I think you can release him now, just be very careful. He is a snake after all,"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Draco snapped.

"Oh, yes, I forgot that you were the master of all things slimy and bottom-feeding," Harry smiled toothily.

Draco was about to comment back, but Aragorn interrupted him, "Is the beast under his control?"

"Yes, it has given his life up for Draco," Harry looked half bemused, half wary.

"He would be a great asset to the battle," Aragorn trailed his eyes along the huge form of the snake.

"I wonder if Orc would give him a stomach ache," Draco wondered laughingly. He turned back to the snake, removing the cuffs and asked, "You hungry, Mitus?" The snaked looked excited and ready for anything.

"Mitus? You already named it?" Harry laughed aloud, "You're just as bad as Hagrid,"

"Shut up. At least I didn't name it Norbert or something stupid like that," Draco glared.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author: Sorry it took so long! Hope you guys like this chapter; it really moved the story forward. This is pretty much the last chapter of Book Two, and the next will be a transitory one to the next part of the story.

Review, and the next chapter should be there sooner than this one.

Love you all!

IcyBlue


	12. Chapter 12 Book Two: The Forever Battle

**Book Two Chapter 12: The Forever Battle**

"The basilisk could be very useful in battle, you should take him immediately to the frontline," Aragorn suggested, "you have more need of you than we do, we can handle ourselves in this place,"

"Are you sure? This place is strange, even we don't understand what is happening in this mountain," Harry did not know what the right choice was; to leave Aragorn to his fate inside the strange rocky caves of an old mountain with only a quarreling dwarf and elf by his side, or to participate in a battle the likes of which he had never seen before. He was capable but knew that Legolas and Gimli were not to be scoffed at; still, he was uneasy about parting with him given Lady Galadriel's words.

And Draco was too preoccupied with his new pet to care.

"Yes, I have a strange inkling that my new sword will be of use in this place," Aragorn eyed the entrance to the cave warily.

"All right, we will go to their aid," Harry consented, "but try not to stay here too long,"

Aragorn smiled softly, somewhat amused and highly touched that the two teenagers cared so much for the fate of the world they ever been a part of.

After a little more urging, Harry and Draco were off to face their second battle in Middle Earth.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was like standing on the edge of a precipice, watching the great battle from a distance. In those few moments before they reached the raging sea of death and fury, they paused and surveyed the destruction they were soon to join.

Draco sat next to Harry, who was hovering on his broom near the head of the basilisk. Harry would ride from above, fighting any who were airborne, while Draco would attack with the horsed army on the ground with Mitus, who looked almost as excited as a puppy at the prospect of so much food and prey.

"See you when this is all over?" Draco said, not taking his eyes off the battle. He wasn't conscious of the undertone of insecurity in his voice. Harry pretended not to hear it; nervous himself, but so used to the pre-fight anxiousness that it was second nature to ignore them.

"Like they'll be able to take on two wizards with just sword and arrows," he replied with an arrogant amusement that was reminiscent of Draco's usual drawl. He hissed at the basilisk before flying off, not waiting for Draco's answer.

_Protect him or suffer like no other before I take your life._

The gigantic snake did not reply, pride not allowing it to acknowledge the threat, knowing that the wizard would hunt him down and make good on his promise should the snake fail his new master. It should have greatly offended the creature, but something in Harry's tone made the reptile almost shiver in its icy assurance.

Draco took no notice of the whispered exchange, and smirked at Harry's comment. He commanded the basilisk forward, pushing any fears or apprehensions away. It was easier this time than those moments before the Avatar fought, or when the Orcs had been closing in, or at Helm's Deep, and his adrenalin rush was somewhat enjoyable now….

_Damn,_ he thought bemused, _I'm turning into Potter._

He didn't know how that expression had turned into something of an endearment, but he was proud to say that he was Harry's friend now, even if the title had never been officially given or spoken of between them.

So, with a wide grin on his face, he pulled his double-swords out and leapt from the basilisk's back into the fray and lost himself again in battle lust and the dance of death with all the rest. Power flowed through him and his weapon like it had turned into his wand, spouting like lighting from the blade tips and edge.

That was when everything went to hell.

Black blood that had sprayed and coated his swords turned red as he fought with _human_ mercenaries. Every cut, amputation, and deep thrust stained his armor and weapons and eyes like a curse. It was hot and thick and disgusting and dizzying, and…and…

Draco did not stop.

Harry was not fairing any better from his position, throwing curses and elemental blows down at the ground. He destroyed the catapults and as many archers as he could see before he saw the flying dragon-things. They were nothing like the ones he had seen fourth year, evil and malicious as the masters riding them as far as he could see. Masters that were strange and monster-like themselves.

He cut down one rider and flyer with his sword, managing to out maneuver and trick the pair with pure skill and muscle memory, faintly akin to being in a Quidditch match again. His heart ached at the reference in his mind, but he moved on with the fight before he got too befuddled by his memories.

That was when he was blind-sided by another rider, knocking him unceremoniously off his broom where he fell nearly thirty feet. Harry bended the air roughly down in a quick series of arm movements, and he landed relatively unscathed on the blood-soaked ground. He was seriously winded by the experience and the hit on his side, feeling the bruises collect and blotch the skin and muscles over his ribs.

_Ow._ Was his first coherent thought as he opened his eyes to see the black-cloaked rider and his flying beast crouching right above him. His sword was nowhere to be seen, and he clutched at his wand out of instinct in its wrist holster.

"_Feast on his flesh_!" said the master to his creature, and the answering screech made Harry's blood run cold. Flames engulfed his body and flew from his out stretched arms as his fear grew into the fight response, refusing to let this ugly son of a bitch be the end of him after everything else he had been through.

The thing reared back, throwing his rider in the process. The fire did not cease until the life had been drained, until the dragon-imposter's scorched flesh did not even twitch. The rider looked upon the burning corpse nonchalantly, and then turned his attention to Harry again. It had no face, no eyes, only a metal crown helm that had eye slits that merely emphasized the nothingness behind the mask.

"_Another wizard_." It said, and pulled a weapon from its midnight robes, a morning star with a huge mace piece at the end of the chain that no mortal should be able to wield with any precision.

Of course only Harry would be luck enough that the man he was fighting was not so much a humanoid as a _thing_, indefinable just like the beast he rode on, and could use the spiky weapon with deadly force and ease. Harry slid the shield from his back, glad now more than ever for the gift from the elves.

The morning star hit the shield with an unsatisfying _thud_, not even etching itself into the strange thick wood of the protective armor. The man-thing flung the weapon again and again, and kept Harry on his toes and deftly dodging like he was a fierce winter wind, undefeatable.

Harry retaliated, throwing fire and hard air strikes, even trying to uproot the man-thing's footing with great heaves of the earth under its feet, but to no avail. He shot icicles, made of whatever water there was in the ground, out of blood, he would later realize. But one lucky hit with the morning star, and the shield was thrown from his hard hold. No physical protection now, against a creature that was a hundred times more deadly than the beast before.

The chill in Harry's blood grew instantaneously upon itself, stopping his heart and any cognitive function that may have existed earlier in the fight. The man-thing threw the spiky mace in a downward arc, straight for Harry's head…

In those three little moments, Harry did not understand what had happened to him. He drew in a harsh, shallow breath, dropping to the ground on his knees, and rolled to the side, throwing his arms forward, palms facing the man-thing, and he shouted out,

"_Avada Kedareva_!"

Green sickly lightening shot at the man-thing's chest, making the foe undulate in a horrifying series of twitches and it immediately released the morning star, shocked still. The green light faded, and the other fell flat on his back, completely and irrevocably _dead_.

Harry felt for a few moments as if he were the one face up on the battle field, lifeless. Had he just…had he just become a monster, a demon himself? Sanity and self were last to Harry Potter in the longest minutes of his life. Eighteen years old, and he was in cardiac arrest, or having an aneurism, or stroke. Nothing was familiar to him, and Harry believed himself to be devoid of anything other than the capacity to murder, to slaughter. It would not matter if that other on his back was Voldemort himself, Harry had sworn to himself years and years ago that he would never use that implement to kill the Dark Lord in any case or situation.

What had he done?

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Draco watched, spent and blood ravaged, as Aragorn and Gimli and Legolas led an army of what looked like spirits into the fray, wave after murderous wave descending upon the evil enemy in an emerald sea of death and insanity. The battle was most certainly over, Aragorn had a new ally that would dispatch with any unwanted in and around the white tiered castle that they had been defending, named Minas Tirith. He breathed deeply and looked over at the basilisk, Mitus, cringing at the cracking Orc bones that broke under the strong jaw of his newest monster/pet. He just hoped that the thing kept up with his appetite for Orc and not any more human hunts.

The field was quieting with the last vestiges of metal on metal clang as the Orcs and human mercenaries fell back, those that were surviving promising death and torture for all that dared defy Sauron. Draco just snorted. Sore losers.

He was carefully avoiding looking down at his weapon and clothes when he spotted Harry at some distance to his left, kneeling on the ground. He sheathed his blades, not wanting to think about having to clean them later, and made his way toward the raven-haired handsome teen-

Again, he stopped his thoughts before they escaped to less than desirable places once more. But he couldn't berate himself anymore when he saw the pure devastation and utter hollow pain in Harry's eyes. He looked up when Draco stood before him, and Draco's mouth went dry. It was like when Umbrigde had been torturing Harry, when he saw the broken teen after he saw Buckbeak sentenced to die, or Hagrid to Azkaban. They had only been apart for a few hours… had the battle been that different from their vantages?

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When Harry's dark green irises beheld Draco in those few seconds as the battle was ending, with fading sun catching the wisps of his bright blond mane and glistening over the spattered armor, it was as if he were looking upon an angel. Draco's silver eyes were warm with concern and disbelief, slowly cajoling Harry out of his reverie. Why had he never seen Draco this way before? The other had always been beautiful, Harry had never lied to himself about that, but why did he see Draco as some sort of Adonis, a mortal god that was too spectacular for words?

Harry had no answer for himself, and he kept staring enraptured and unblinking at his arch rival, his friend, through the haze of his uncertainty and grief without moving a muscle. Draco's hand wrapped over his shoulder, warm even through the glove as the blond came to his knees in front of Harry. Draco's other hand copied the motion and he held onto Harry's shoulders without doing anything else, unsure of what to say. Or, was he saying something, and Harry could not hear him?

Harry didn't know, and didn't consider it, and his hand moved to grasp behind Draco's neck firmly, pulling the other forward, and he slanted his mouth over Draco's lips passionately, gently, and with every unfettered emotion in his swirling heart's tempest. He felt Draco's hands loosen on his shoulders but did not relent the intimate touch, not knowing why he did not want to sever this new connection.

The rest of Middle Earth faded away, and the two wizards were pulled forever from its budding age of man and promises of a happy future.

And Draco pushed back against Harry, hands tensing with fervor on the raven's strong shoulders.


	13. Chapter 13 Book Three: Last New World

**Book Three Chapter Thirteen: The Last New World**

Darkness. When they opened their eyes and pulled away from each other, that's all they saw. Harry was washed up, tired beyond all reason with his emotions and thoughts wreaking havoc on his physical form. Draco felt trapped and unsure, trying to sense anything near them and reached for his separated swords just in case.

"Well done..." A voice called to them, and their heads swiveled to find the source. "You have proceeded so beautifully. The next world shall be the final challenge from me, but alas, it is also the hardest. This place is in complete chaos, no safe havens and dwindling heroes. Hopefully, you will be able to help them."

"Who are you?" Draco called out, ready to tear out his own hair out of frustration.

"I am the necklace, in a sense. But do not worry about that, you will be returned to Hogwarts when you are finished with this last world. They are in desperate need of aid. Good luck," And the darkness shifted, the ground beneath them giving and they fell through the air.

They landed with a grunt on dying grass, just as annoyed as the last two times they had been tossed around like rag dolls.

"Bugger!" Draco shouted at the sky, as if that would make any difference. They were already in the place, wherever the hell that stupid necklace had decided to take them next. "This had better be the last. Never thought that I'd say this, but I actually miss Hogwarts."

Harry made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. He dusted himself off and picked up the knapsack that had mysteriously appeared with them. They looked around in every direction, not seeing anything but scenery all around in the twilight. It was quickly becoming night; the sun had set a while ago. Both boys had to admit that there wasn't much difference in this place compared to Middle Earth; it was so lush and green.

A strangled sound to the East, from over the turn of the hill drew their attention. They turned and began to walk quietly in that direction, and almost immediately wished they hadn't.

Zombies. Like some B-Horror flick, the meaty, decaying and smelly corpses were ambling toward them on disgusting legs. Some had bones exposed, others only sinew and draping muscle.

"You've got to me shitting me," Harry breathed, nearly reaching for his sword strapped to his back before thinking better of it. There was no way he was cleaning rotting gunk off of his precious blade, even if it was already dirtied with Orc blood. He sent an inferno at the six zombies, burning them to a crisp as Draco followed his example. The guttural noises ceased and Harry stopped the fire before turning his head away and gagging. The smell was roiling his stomach, and judging from the way Draco turning green, he felt the same. They didn't have the time to dwell on it.

Short, almost house-elf sized red creatures were charging at them. They were bulky with muscle, each holding a sword (more the size of a glorified dagger) and were bare-footed and only had what could be called a loincloth around their waists.

"What in the hell...?" Draco spoke this time. They pulled their own weapons, changing their stances and preparing to fight. The demonic creatures had bright yellowed eyes Harry noticed as he sliced the first two down. Draco and Harry made quick work of the monsters, but something was strange... no matter how many they seemed to cut down, there were more waiting...

And then they both saw it. One of the monsters they had killed got up again, wound healing almost instantly. Harry's surprise was cut short though, when he saw a fireball speeding toward him out of the corner of his eye. Air-bending pushed the fire in the direction of one of the red creatures instead of landing on him. He scanned the area with wary eyes until he saw the source of the blast.

Maybe five yards away stood a taller version of the demonic shorties, with a sharp-teethed necklace and a long staff instead of a sword. When this monster raised a hand, though, another of the short creatures was revived. A necromancer? Harry thought as he charged the creature. He dodged another fireball and stabbed the red monster before following up by slitting its throat open. The monster collapsed, and Harry ran back to help Draco finish off the smaller demons.

It was now completely night. The stars overhead were clear and bright, and there were no other lights in the surrounding areas as far as they could tell. And in the stillness, there were more noises, guttural, gross, and disturbing sounds from unseen sources all around them.

"_Lumos_!" Draco spelled, a ball of glittering light appearing in his palm. He threw it into the air above them, and it split equally into all different directions in a fifteen yard radius. There was no one on the hills or in the edge of the forest that they could see, but the noises suddenly ceased.

"Dammit," Harry muttered, sliding closer to Draco, "What is going on?"

Back to back with Harry, Draco whispered over his shoulder, "I'm sure we really don't want to know,"

Hoof beats on malleable soil came from their right, and they half turned in that direction, keeping as little of their backs exposed as they could. Four people on horseback rode to them, two women, two men, all armored and armed to the teeth. Harry and Draco kept their weapons up.

One of the men raised a knocked arrow at them, and Harry pulled up his shield to cover both of them. The arrow sailed past them at an alarming speed and sunk into wet-sounding dead flesh. Their friends the Zombies were back with few new helpers. Weird, gray-skinned, sword-wielding women, who looked about as alive as their limping companions. Figuring with a side-glance to Draco that the horsemen were the least of their worries for the time being, they attacked the monsters advancing on them.

It didn't take long for the ground to be soaked with new blood, and the monsters had lost again. The horsemen all stared at Harry and Draco, trying to decide what to do with them, it seemed.

"What be your names?" An olive-skinned black-haired woman asked.

"Harry and Draco," Harry pointed respectively. "And yours?"

"I am Gabriella," She answered, then indicated a heavily muscled bald man, "That is Cadius," another man, with long, white-blond hair, "He is Fury," and the other woman with short brown hair, "And she is Lucine," Gabriella paused, looking at their weapons and outfits, "You are both skilled with swords and magic, why are you in the wilderness in the night? Especially so close to the woods,"

"We just got here. Why are you?" Draco sighed, tired of all the meet-and-greets and calculating stares.

"We are travelling to the village that lies due West of here, not five hundred yards. The Rouge Encampment," Fury answered, "The High Priestess Akara is waiting for us. Did she send for you as well?"

"Yes," Harry agreed immediately, thinking that it was most likely true whether he and Draco knew it or not. Why else would they be so close to the Encampment if not to meet some strange spiritual leader? It wasn't as if they didn't know enough of those as it were. "Would it be alright if we walked with you the rest of the way?"

The band of warriors was already mounting their horses again. "Yes," said Caduis in his deep voice, looking strangely disproportionate to his grey mount with his huge muscles and tall frame. And the group made sure to keep the pace sedate so Harry and Draco could follow along until they reached the sturdy wooden fence surrounding the Rouge Encampment.

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So, for all you non-gaming fans out there, this was the first part of the Diablo II/Harry Potter crossover of my fanfic, and it is the last crossover of the fanfic, I swear. I hope you like it, it's a good storyline for the last part of the crossovers, and I highly recommend the game if you have never played it before.

BUT, YOU DO NOT NEED TO HAVE PLAYED IT TO UNDERSTAND THIS FIC. I WILL EXPLAIN, I PROMISE!!!

Hope you liked.

- IcyBlue -


	14. Chapter 14 Book Three: Rouge Encampment

**Author's Note:**

**And here it is, Chapter FOURTEEN! YAY!**

**And this one goes out to SunshineandDaisies, cause she was the awesome person and the latest to review! Thanks for being such a loyal reader!**

**Book Three Chapter Fourteen: The Rouge Encampment & The Desert Palace**

Akara, for a month or so (Harry and Draco had stopped trying to count the days a while ago) was their personal quest-giver. She was a High Priestess of some dwindling order that knew what was wrong with the lands surrounding the Rouge Encampment. Her no nonsense instruction and somewhat cold attitude was a welcome change in Draco and Harry's opinion, after having to deal with so much mystical and uncertain buggery. It also wasn't too bad working with the band of heroes who wanted nothing more than to get the job done and learn as much about combat and magic as they could without complaint. Had the two wizards in training not been so weary from all the other worlds they had faced and the situation at home so dangerous, they probably would have been overjoyed to have been learning from such dedicated and knowledgeable people.

As it was, they were ready to throttle Dumbledore and use his stash of spell ingredients for a decent sleeping potion. The nightmares were getting to be a bitch. It didn't help that they had to huddle together for warmth, either. They were fighting as a team better than ever, though, and their magical potential grew by the day.

After the Rouge Encampment was safe from Andariel, a nasty she-bitch that nearly poisoned half their crew to death and dislocating Harry's shoulder when she threw him through the wall, they moved east to a desert governed by a secretive prince who was having a bit of an infestation from Mephesto, one of the three Devil brothers. The monsters in this place were as gross and cunning as the ones from the plains, but twice as strong. It was getting to be a worrisome routine that Harry and Draco woke prepared to die in a strange world and went to sleep with one eye open and a hand on their swords. They did their best to joke and jibe with the rest of the group, but even they could tell that the charade was wearing thin on them all. A dark understanding was shared between them, a bond made from blood and toil that they would all die to save the others. No hesitation.

It was in this desert, though, where they found who their ultimate enemy was, the master mind: Diablo, and his soulstones. After figuring out that the bastard had already moved on from the desert and further east, and being told how powerful he was, suddenly Voldemort no longer scared Harry or Draco.

What was frightening them, however, was just how much they were changing, and not just their clothes. Harry had packed his and Draco's cloaks in the endless bag and now wore only a black and silver designed sleeveless, magic-resistant breast plate with loose black pants that did not inhibit his movements in anyway, with light boots that buckled just over his knees. His sword and shield were strapped to his back when he travelled, and were in his hold seconds after a threat was sensed. Both his and Draco's normal pale complexions tanned quickly under the harsh sun, and their muscles were in constant soreness from overuse.

Draco wore a thin, magiked chainmail with short sleeves over a white tee that was the only thing left from their world that had no been bleed on, ripped, or soiled beyond repair. He didn't expect it to last long. His pants were similar to Harry's, but his boots were of a soft suede that increase his speed and stealth and tied up just under his knees, his knife from the Elves tucked away there and out of sight most of the time. His sword staff was sheathed in halves on his back, the handles at easy grasping range by his hips.

The weirdest thing about all their outfit and environment changes, however, was that they did not seem to grow or change with the exception of their muscles and skin tone. Their hair did not lengthen and as far as they could tell, they were not aging in any way, no matter how many months it seemed they had been gone from Hogwarts. It would have been worrisome, had they enough gall to care. At that point, thinking back on all that had happened while they were facing the meanest monster threatening the outer desert territories, it really didn't seem to matter.

Their group was approached by one of the palace guards, the large muscled man gruffly informing them that they had been called to an audience by the prince, who had yet to be crowned king since the recent death of his father. They were taken to a tent set up on the cobblestoned street side near the entrance to the palace where the prince was waiting for them with a solemn expression on his face.

"Thank you all for agreeing to meet me," he said, and they nodded in respect. "I am sorry that I have not had the chance to truly welcome you to my home, especially with all the monsters that you have slain and people you have undoubtedly saved, but the palace is not a safe place anymore."

"What happened?" Fury asked, the barbarian ever the blunt stereotype.

"You have to understand that this was not my family's mistake. The palace was built hundreds of years before the monsters started to appear, and we have no idea what has changed to cause such a disturbance. The dungeons of the palace run deep and some levels even unkempt because they are so vast. I have not even visited every corner of my own home." The prince sighed, collecting himself. "About three moons ago, however, was when my palace was attacked from the inside. It was a massacre, women, children, and my own father was slaughtered, and the monsters continue to inhabit and thrive in those walls today. My guards are fighting to keep them from reaching the inner city, but it is a losing battle. We need to strike down the source of whatever is spawning the demons within."

"If you are asking for our help, then we agree to search out this threat and cleanse your palace as well as we can," Gabriella promised, having heard similar speeches to this from nearly everyone they had encountered previously.

"I am so sorry that I ask so much of you, but I really have no other choice," the prince sighed. "I would offer you the use of my guards, but they are needed to protect the borders and the palace entrance..."

"I am sure we can manage by ourselves," The necromancer, Cadius, smiled slyly to their group, and they nodded wryly back.

They were led to the palace doors and all fell to darkness when those huge double doors shut behind them. They all paused for a moment, preparing themselves in the cool, unsettling black, and Harry tightened his hold on the hilt and pulled his shield off his back, hearing the distant growling and groaning noises of monsters coming from the staircase leading to the lower chambers of the building.

He felt Draco draw in closer to him, and the instinctual comfort from his emanating warmth was something that Harry had learned to rely on. He was sure that the blond drew the same reassurances from the proximity.

With a deep breath and a moment to make sure everyone was prepared, Draco and Harry plunged onward into the dungeons.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Behind you!" Draco deflected the Bone Mage's fireball when warned by Lucine who was using her arrows to pick off the weaker monsters flanking them from the hall to the right.

It was somewhere around their second day (or night, they slept whenever they were too tired to continue) in the palace barracks, and they were close to achieving their mission it seemed, if the number of monsters were any indicator that they were near to the base of their birthplace. Of course, that meant that they were also almost to the lowest level of the whole palace, a seemingly endless shadowed pit of blood and stench and all manner of disgusting horror that no human mind could imagine. So, it wasn't too surprising that Harry thought of Salazar's Basilisk's home, though the deeper the group went, the less certain he was that anything the forsaken maze was like Hogwarts at all.

The next door they came had to be knocked down; its wood and metal decrepit and stuck to the jamb. Inside was a large chamber with, surprisingly, no monsters. But in the center of a huge spell circle there was a red and gold fluctuating portal, obviously where the infestation had started.

"A great evil is still present beyond this portal..." Gabrielle said, holding out a hand to the circle to sense better.

"It does not seem that they were expecting us to get this far." Cadius smiled cruelly, shaking his head.

"I hate to be underestimated." Draco sneered, a shadow passing over his face reminiscent of the younger boy that had offered a bad contract of friendship to Harry that first year.

"I think that we should show them just how bad a mistake that was," Harry gripped his sword, "Diablo certainly did not want us to get to this point,"

"I'm all for a surprise," the brown-haired assassin said, flipping her weapon expertly.

Fury rolled his eyes, "What are we waiting for, our hair to grey? They will sense us coming if we stay still much longer."

"Ever eloquent as always my friend," Draco smiled at the barbarian, sounding only minimally facetious, readying his swords and moving toward the circle with Harry. The two young wizards shared a look, excitement and adrenaline filling their blood, and they jumped through the portal together.

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So…. Its two months later…. Heheh…

Don't hurt me. *Cowers*

Hope you liked it, had fun writing this part. There are only one or two more chapters to Book Three before I move on to the final book in the story, so I hope you're ready for some heavy action in the next few sections.

Review and I will love you, as always.

IcyBlue


	15. Chapter 15 Book Three: Passage

Author's Note: You guys inspired me to write more sooner! Thanks so much... Hugs and Kisses and cookies all around!

This chapter is dedicated to shebajay, cause I like your name. Thanks for reviewing so quickly and I hope you like this chappie!

Oh, and Akki, if you are confused, please tell me about what so I can explain it further detail.

Enjoy all!

**Book Three Chapter Fifteen: Passage to the Deep**

Draco woke in a cold sweat ten or so days from the time that they had stepped through the portal in the palace dungeons. The group had fallen into a place called the Valley of the Magi, a wickedly tainted desert land that was hotter than hell and bursting with strange and twisted creatures. They had managed to seal the tomb of the brother of Diablo, Mephisto, but at a heavy price. In their haste to keep the monster from emerging from the carefully spelled prison, Diablo had used the distraction to transport himself away from the desert lands completely, and with the magical buildup in the tomb, Gabrielle and Cadius had been unable to track him through their highly trained senses or magically.

Fortunately, the man who had been traveling as his manservant, Rameus, had been able to leave word that his master was going to the poisonous Forests to the south. After using the portal back to the under palace, they had quickly moved to the surface and given the Prince the news that the palace was now un-infested, and the portal had closed after them. He had offered to celebrate their triumph and his land's hard won peace, but they had politely declined, no matter how tempting a rest and ale sounded at the moment. Harry and Draco were coming under the impression that restfulness and peace would come to them only in death, they were so desperate to get back to Hogwarts, longing endlessly for the seemingly familiar and almost comforting-sounding threat of Voldemort. Really, after everything that they had seen, the bald snakey bastard was more like an annoying gnat than a Dark Lord.

With that image in his head, Harry had to chuckle, seeing the pale-skinned bald head on the body of a roach, hissing pathetically. He shared this thought with Draco at the blond's inquisitive gaze, and it became a very bad recurring joke as they neared the swamp-village in the forests and all manner of small insects were stomped under their feet. One time Draco had broken down in hysterics when they had killed a roach-like bug that had been the size of a human. Harry was hard-pressed not to laugh just as hard at their private joke and the form of Draco, face flushed red, holding onto a tree as he tried to breathe normally again. The rest of the group had looked upon the two youngest, some of the most vicious and dedicated fighters they had ever met, with fondness as they laughed together. It was obvious now, what they had missed about the wizards before, the bond they shared.

He looked to Harry, who lied by his side, in a fitful sleep of his own. The upward twitch of his lips was involuntary when he thought back to that day they had seen their first monster-bug. But that one good memory was not what haunted Draco's thoughts that evening.

He had dreamed not of the wrath of the world he was trapped in, or even the darkness that dredged the hearts of the insane Dark Marked, but of the wrath of his father. He knew the lengths that his mother had taken to try and protect him, against the will and knowledge of his cruel and likely deranged male parent. Now that the choice had been made, his plan to stay on the 'light side' and fight beside the raven (because he refused to fight for Dumbledore, the bastard that had doomed him to jump to so many weird-ass places), he had to consider what he would do about his father finding out and the rest of his friends at school. How many of them would be willing to stand by him when he came back and showed his new colors?

_That'll be a disastrous announcement to make_, he thought, trying to work out in his head who would be the best to tell, who would not rat him out, and who would remain his friend. _What a way to test loyalty_, he huffed.

"What are you thinking about?" came Harry's hushed tones beside him. Draco quickly turned to him, silently. They were lying somewhat away from the group, but Harry and Draco knew that speaking above a certain level would rouse the rest immediately.

Draco sighed, feeling too tired to brush him off, lie about it, too unsure. "About what's going to happen when we get back," he scolded himself for almost saying 'if' they got back, because pessimism would get them nowhere but cynical and downhearted. Well… _more_ cynical and downhearted

"What about it?" Harry asked quietly, not really wanting to press Draco for fear of him clamming up, but the blonde rarely allowed such honest and serious conversation. Harry would never admit it out loud, but this open version of Draco that seemed truer than any other persona that the blonde adorned drew him in, fascinated Harry in a way that he had never felt before. He... actually liked Draco when he was like this.

"I know not much time will have passed when we return," Draco said, remembering back to a stilted exchange between Harry and Hermione through the mirrors when she really explained the time difference in their worlds, "So... what will I do when I have to go back to class, to the Slytherin house?" He heaved a harsh breath, "When the summer comes around?"

Harry looked at him carefully, not sure where Draco's head was. "Are you nervous about going back? Do you really think that it will be that different?"

Draco laughed humorlessly, pitifully, "Are we really trying to convince ourselves that we're not different? That we _haven't_ changed?" He shook his head.

Harry lowered his eyes, nodding his head. Admitting to that would be admitting that everything here was real, everyone that they had befriended... had... had...

Had killed. Massacred. Burned, stabbed, poisoned, and _murdered_. He closed his eyes against the memories coming up, boiling to the surface to burn him in his waking thoughts.

"So, yeah, yes, I'm nervous as hell. But that's not really what keeps me awake." Draco shook his head more forcefully, his hand twitching to his sword handle next to him in its sheath, quickly becoming a habit when he was unsettled. "What will my friends say to me when I tell them that Harry Potter is my new friend? That I'm going to fight with him, have fought with him, against-" Draco made quotation marks in the air, "'evil'." He pushed a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck roughly, "What will my mother say? What will my father _do_?"

Harry listened to him, not saying anything. He sensed Draco wasn't finished just yet.

"I can't believe that I probably won't have anywhere to go this summer, if my _dear father_ doesn't kill me after he disowns me," Draco sneered at Lucious's parental endearment. "And believe me, no son of his is going to go against the Dark Lord,"

Harry watched the way that Draco sagged after the end of his admission, and without thinking, pulled Draco into his arms.

He stilled, not knowing what the reaction or its severity would be.

Draco tensed, not expecting the gesture of attempted comfort. Harry's strong, firm form surrounded him, and Draco's nose was pressed to his neck. There was a moment that he thought he should push the raven away, make a joke and a snarky comment to escape the serious feel of the situation. It was a long minute of silence and awkwardness, before Draco felt himself unexpectedly relax. One of his hands came up and gripped around Harry's shoulder from beneath, and he let loose a breath before leaning to rest his forehead on Harry's chest. A calm serenity passed between them as they just sat there, embraced, and let go of all the tension and repressed fear that was barely veiled under their ferocious masks and day to day antics. In silence, they accepted their bond forged so strangely, but so needed.

Harry swallowed, and tightened his hold after a few moments. "You could..."

"Hm?" Draco closed his eyes, waiting for Harry to respond.

"You could come with me," Harry said, "For the summer, I mean."

"No offense, Harry, but I don't much fancy the Muggle world,"

"That's fine, I'm not going back to the Muggle world," Harry snorted, imaging what Petunia and Vernon's faces would look like at finding out _another_ _freak_ would be under their roof. As entertaining as that prospect might be, the mountain cabin sounded much better. Especially for his dwindling sanity's sake as well. He said as much to Draco, who looked up at him, still in his arms.

"Going to the mountains for the summer is hardly going to solve the whole disowning problem," Draco laughed lightly, breathless in the face of Harry's offer.

"I know, but at least it's somewhere safe for the time being, and you won't have to pretend to be an evil bugger," Harry smiled crookedly.

"So I just pretend to be an evil bugger, do I?" Draco lifted an eyebrow. "What am I really, then?"

"A friend, a good person... Once you get over yourself," Harry smirked. Draco blushed and sputtered a little.

"Get over myself?" he said indignantly.

"Yes, the evil bugger mask is just to hide what a sap you really are," Harry smiled for real that time, affection shining through in the glowing dawn.

Draco huffed, but reddened even further, ducking his head back to Harry's shoulder.

"So?"

"So what?" Draco mumbled back.

"Are you going to go to the cabin with me?" Harry repeated the question.

Draco looked into Harry's eyes again, seeing the honesty and hidden concern in his gaze.

"I guess so," Draco said, then shook his head softly, "I must be going insane,"

Harry chuckled some, "Guess so,"

Draco thumped Harry's back, but still stayed in his arms and rested his head again. They fell back to sleep like that, on top of Harry's magically cushioned blankets, feeling safe for the first time in all the months they had been wandering the realms together.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days after Draco had accepted Harry's offer found them at the swamp village with a whole new list of monsters to kill and items to retrieve. Once more, their companions went around the site, trading up constantly for newer and stronger weaponry, armor, and magical protective talismans and rings. Draco bought himself a ring that increased his speed and balance, while Harry bought one to better his aim and strength. Both bought necklaces to better their stamina.

But as for their weapons… They never had had to trade up. Not that they would ever give them up, but Harry's sword and Draco's sword staff seemed to increase in power and durability the longer they went on. Harry's shield did not need replacing either, and continued to protect him completely from any magic or force thrown at him. For the most part, they just bartered for better armor, and they were set for any opponent.

And with the prices of the weapons that they saw, they were ever grateful.

The major draw back to the forests, beyond the bugs and weird… evil bunny-like things on speed, was the humidity. Their skin was almost always coated in a sheen of sweat, and it made the armor uncomfortable and heavier seeming. It didn't help that the trees blocked out the sky half the time, making them feel claustrophobic and trapped when they faced a large number of monsters.

"ANOTHER temple?" Draco nearly whined. Who was he trying to kid? That was a full blown kiddy sob.

"Apparently," Harry huffed as they heaved themselves up the steps, "Someone had a thing for them,"

The rest of the group laughed heartily at their annoyance. They were definitely an entertaining pair to have around, that was certain. Even if they glared at the older warriors.

"Do not worry," Fury clapped Draco on the back, "This is the last we shall see of this realm. Once we get inside, there will be a portal to the high place,"

"Really?" Draco nearly beamed at the prospect of a change, and then frowned a little, "What High Place?"

"It's a fortress, high in the mountains, where Oman said that Tyrael, a very powerful sorcerer, oversees the souls of the greatest heroes that ever lived," Cadius intoned, sounding overly pleased that he would get to meet the man.

"That's… nice and all, but why are we going there?" Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow, wondering where the necromancer's priorities lay.

"Oman also said that Tyrael informed him that Diablo was near there," Lucine added helpfully, "And that it did not seem like he would be moving anytime soon,"

"We're finally getting to face him?" Draco said excitedly, bounding up the last steps that led to the temple's entrance with new vigor, but paused at the top.

"Wait, where were we when he told you this?"

"Ah, I believe that you both were still sleeping," Gabrielle actually giggled, smiling happily at the red blushes on their faces. Their eyes widened when Cadius gave them a wink and Fury only laughed boisterously at their flustered disbelief. They hurried inside, both silently begging that the monsters would attack soon so that their embarrassment would come to an end.


	16. Chapter 16 Book Three: Fortress

**Author's Note: Hey all! **

**I'm glad that this chapter came so fast to me, cause guess what? **

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**Thank you all so much for sticking with me for this long. I hope you enjoy the chapter! ; )**

**Book Three Chapter Sixteen: They Came From The Fortress...**

Harry looked to the sky. He wasn't sure if it was because they were so high in the mountains, or if some magic was at work for the stars to seem so big and close. It was beautiful, natural or not, though. He yawned and pulled his cloak tighter to him, fighting a small chill. He turned slightly to Draco, who was right next to him.

So far, all the group had done was scouring the large empty plains and tunnels that they had discovered due west to the fortress. Tyrael assured them that Diablo was near and unmoving, and otherwise Harry might have felt all of this searching was pointless. This night was the first that he had had any peace, or a moment to himself. He was tired, bone deep, and there was an ache in every muscle in his body. By this time, he was surprised that he hadn't locked up in battle or collapsed with the pace that they kept up. He often saw Draco rub his own shoulders and arms, and knew that the blonde was thinking the same thing.

But he didn't let his mind dwell on it, thinking about such unless and baffling topic was just going to give him a headache, like so many times before. There were easily a hundred other things to think about that were actually worth getting a headache over, if he was able to sort through them. Not the least of which was Draco, and the wizard's decision to defy his father, and most likely his house. Why would he do that? To help Harry? But, he didn't like Harry, did he?

Then again, maybe it was better to just stick to what he had to before: focus on fighting, surviving, and learning all he could. They would get home sometime soon, and then he could focus on everything else. He wasn't avoiding the subject. Really.

Harry lay back down, trying to go back to sleep. He would think about this moment not two days later, in the deep of a cave, fighting once again for his life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was scary how good Draco was getting at dodging the proverbial bullet. Or fireball. He was even able to deflect some of the magic straight back at Diablo, if he used his weapon and twisted just right.

They had been battling the infamous badass for over two hours. Everyone was fighting with an exuberance that had dwindled over time with so many ambushes and bouts that seemed to lead them nowhere. Now, they were at the end game.

And Draco, for one, was ready to go home. Even if he had to cringe at the thought of his mother waiting for him. He almost took a claw to the shoulder for his pause in movement, Diablo was so quick and relentless that he was able to fight them all singled handedly. In fact, Draco bet the giant creature would have been smirking at them, had he a recognizable face. As it was, Diablo reminded Draco of the Belrog, just smarter and... miniaturized, because even though Diablo was the size of four men standing on each other's heads, the Belrog was about as massive as a small mountain.

And he was magic resistant. Did Draco fail to mention that?

So although Gabrielle and Cadius had very powerful magic, it was practically useless against Diablo. Their weapons where still good against him... if and when they were able to hit the bastard. Fury was having no trouble with the new development, and Lucine was backing him up with poisoned arrows.

Harry and Draco were flanking each other as well. They pushed as much explosive energy as they could into their blades, and moved gracefully within each other's spaces, fainting and striking with equal randomness, trying to keep Diablo on the defensive and away from Gabrielle and Cadius. For the most part, Diablo focused on the four of them and ignored the sorceress and necromancer, who were healing them from the sidelines.

Once he realized their plan of attack and unending determination for what it was, he began to push harder. He turned on a dime and aimed his attack to their less involved group members. It only took two well aimed blasts for him to disarm Gabrielle and Cadius, who were taken by surprise as they concentrated on healing the others. Diablo aimed...

"NO!" Draco heard a shout that resounded in his own head. He saw Harry push himself off the ground with an extra shot of air under his feet and shift his hold on his hilt to point the blade downwards and plunge it deep into the monster's back. Diablo arched and howled out in rage and pain, rearing upwards to try and throw Harry off. Draco watched as Harry pulled the weapon out and prepared to strike again. Draco forced himself to move, managing to cut Diablo's stomach, but the distraction wasn't enough, even with Fury landing a blow to the back of his leg. Harry was thrown off so hard that he fell past the edge of the abyss, which hadn't seemed so close when they were fighting Diablo at first.

Draco turned away from Diablo, who was now too preoccupied with Fury and Lucine and his wounds to worry about the double bladed wizard who was running to the cliff.

Draco didn't think. He grabbed the bottomless bag, sheathing his swords and stuffed his hand inside, feeling the shrunken broom and immediately pulling it out. He unconsciously, wandlessly commanded it back to its normal size before mounting it and diving off the edge, all in a smooth flurry of motion that could not have been emulated by the best dancers or performers in the world. It seemed like Draco could not blink for fear of losing sight of Harry, who was free falling out of control into a pit of growing darkness.

The broom speed up when Draco tightened his grip on the handle with his left hand, reaching out ahead with his right, drawing closer and closer to Harry with every windy second. Draco was going so fast that he nearly passed Harry up once the wind resistance caught up to them, and he wrapped his arm around Harry's waist and tried to pull him up on the broom while slowing at the same time. His balance slipped when Harry grasped him back, and they both fell from the broom.

They held onto each other, arms wrapped tightly and resolutely as they both looked frantically for a solution. It became harder to breathe, the air around them heating to a boiling humidity and they saw that there was a river of lava steaming in the deep earth below them. Their hearts pounding hard and adrenalin stealing their oxygen even faster, they passed out and all was peaceful and black.

In that darkness, a soft sound of a snick and cling resounded their consciousness before the nothingness over took them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was pacing in the library for what seemed like the twentieth time that day. It had been two weeks since Harry and Malfoy had disappeared and became the puppets of some grander plan that Dumbledore had concocted, and after she had found out about the time passage difference in one of the many volumes she studied to figure out more about the necklace, she couldn't have been more worried. It was almost worse then that first time she had sent Harry off on his own all those years ago after Quirrel when she had to look after Ron, and the fact that now he was stuck with his arch rival didn't help ease her nerves much at all.

But all in all, she could see what Dumbledore had been thinking when he did it. Should it work (and it _was_ Dumbledore, so she knew it would) and the two would… have an understanding of each other? Become friends? Actually tolerate one another? Her pace quickened. Right after she thought about how 'long' they were going to be gone, how grievous the challenges they would face were, it was that question that really stumped her. What would happen now? They were two of the most stubborn people she had met (right after Ron, of course, you could only be _so _stubborn) and it would take a lot to change their regard of one another.

Hermione's doubts were fuelled only by the time she had gone to see the Headmaster three days ago and he had been worriedly staring at the necklace, as if something should have changed at this point. The necklace itself had completely changed, so Hermione could only assume that Dumbledore thought Harry and Malfoy should have return by now…

She couldn't take her thoughts any longer. The bookworm dashed out of the empty library (it was early enough that no one needed to study, especially on a Saturday) and practically ran to Dumbledore's office for what had to have been the seventh time in the course of two days.

"Eggcream jelly bean," she barely forced herself to stop the eye roll induced by the password, because really, there should be a limit to how weird the Headmaster of a school could be.

She quickly moved up the steps to hear two voices coming from the inner room, and she stopped short of the last few stairs, trying not to interrupt until she recognized who's the second voice belonged to.

"… its out of my hands, I know that you are worried, but-" came Dumbledore's low timber.

"I'm not worried; I know that Harry can take care of himself. It's Hermione I'm worried about. She hardly leaves the library, driving herself insane trying to find out all she can about magical objects, and if I watch her pace up and down the hall or common room again, _I'll_ go insane." Ron sighed, almost whining at the end of his spiel. "Can't you just break the spell and bring them home? You know she won't stop and rest until they are…"

"I'm sorry, my dear boy," Dumbledore genuinely, for the first time, apologized, "I cannot undo this spell. Only they can work their way through it. We've given them as much help as we can, and if they are really in danger, then they can contact us – have contacted us on several occasions."

Hermione came up the rest of the steps, heart swelling even as she saw Ron deflate in defeat. Ron had been worried about her enough that he went to the Headmaster to ask for help? She couldn't have stopped herself from hugging him tightly if he tried.

"Hermione!" Ron nearly squeaked, "What are you doing here?"

"Listening to you being so sweet," She smiled for real for the first time in weeks, and Ron turned redder than his hair at the comment.

Dumbledore looked on the scene with a smile of his own. The quirky two could not have been a more perfect match for each other if they tried.

It was then that Harry and Draco dropped into the back corner of his office, groaning and breathing heavily.

"Harry!" Hermione was the first to move toward them, breaking the shocked moment with her cry. Malfoy groaned and tumbled off of Harry onto his back, hissing as the bruises hit and dug his swords hard against his spine. He sat up carefully and saw that Harry was doing the same with help from Ron and Hermione. He smiled ruefully and shook his head before lying back again.

Everything was back to normal.

There wasn't much that could have deterred his good mood, however. He chuckled breathlessly with his legs sprawled out in front of him, not really inclined to move at the moment. He listened absently to Harry's friends nitpicking over his wounds and new outfit, and barely noticed when they stopped talking and Harry walking toward him. He opened his eyes and saw Harry standing over him, holding out his hand.

"You know, you'll soon find that some good guys are better than others," Harry smiled deviously, just as Draco's did, remembering a similar gesture between them almost six years ago. "I can help you there."

Draco took his hand immediately, and let Harry pull him up, replying with a fake haughty tone, "I think I can decide for myself, thanks,"

Harry shook his head and laughed softly. He squeezed Draco's hand and they gripped together, trying to come down from their adrenalin high that just wouldn't quit for some reason.

Ron looked between them, his expression mixed with both incredibility and exasperation, saying, "Blimey, we leave you two alone for two weeks and you're bloody friends now?"

"Ron," Hermione hissed, chastising him for forgetting to be sympathetic instead of blunt like always.

Harry and Draco's expressions fell drastically, haunted by the experiences and sights and all the time they had spent in the three worlds. The weight of all that they had done and learned that had been momentarily lifted by the fact that they were _home_ crushed back down with a careless force.

"It's been a bit longer than that..." Draco tried to sarcastically brush off the dark flood of emotion that they had been bringing to the happy atmosphere of the room. It fell short of its usual tone, but his voice stayed strong. _No breaking down now_, he thought at himself, wanting to fight off the depression with vigorous sword play or just plain violence. He had to remind himself that he was no longer two and it was not a good thing for a seventeen year old to throw a tantrum.

Dumbledore saw the dark circles under their eyes and the sag of their shoulders, most of which he knew had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. He had hoped that the necklace would have been a good learning experience, a little hard work to throw the two into some sort of harmony so that they would leave behind their childish duels and misplaced aggression.

He had not wanted for them to lose their innocence along the way. Had forcing them into adulthood, throwing them into harsh battles and magical duels been the only way to curb their hatred of one another? But as he looked at the way they were drawn to each other, silently supporting and checking on the other, he knew that the hatred had been only one feat that the necklace had had to hurtle. _Denial can run so deep_... Dumbledore sighed to himself, wishing that he knew more about what had happened and knew that Harry would be sparse on the details. Draco even more so.

The flare of mature and highly powerful wizard auras was only one of the many side affects of the necklace's interference, too. Maybe the necklace had sensed Harry and Draco's echoing fear of Voldemort? Again, something that he would have to think over later.

"I am glad that you two have returned," the Headmaster said, reacquainting them all with his presence in the room when their conversation had lulled. "But I believe that you both are in dire need of a good rest. Please, Ron, Hermione, take them to the infirmary - have Madam Pomfery look them over and stay the night there,"

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, and Ron nodded. Draco was glaring murderously at Dumbledore; and Harry...

He just looked betrayed. He sighed heavily and gripped Draco's upper arm to keep him moving out of the office, unconsciously grounding the blonde. Dumbledore stared at the fire after the left, contemplating his next move and trying not to think that using the necklace had been a mistake.

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Review please. It's what makes my life entertaining.


	17. Chapter 17 Book Four: There and Back

**Book Four Chapter Seventeen: There and Back Again…**

_Nine Days Later…_

Draco walked down the hall near the bottom level of the school that night, cautiously looking around him. He wore his prefect's badge just in case, but he really, really didn't want to be caught by anyone, wizard, ghost, or otherwise. His excitement for the coming hours only added to his nervousness, somehow.

Harry and he had been greeted enthusiastically the day after their return, the Gryffindor House decidedly louder than the Slytherin, all their friends and classmates asking questions, slapping them on the shoulders, and hoping for a chance to hear about their adventures. The Slytherins sneered at the thought of their ice prince having to deal with Harry Potter, the Gryffindors made fun of Draco and the snake-house, and everything was as it was before.

Except…

Except that Harry would smile and talk and laugh with his friends, Draco finding his haughty attitude once more while among his elite companions, both feeling nothing but disquiet and unsettlement. They would glance discreetly at each other, locking gazes for rebellious moments, all the while wishing that they were somewhere else. All they had wanted for so long was to come home, but now, through the course of their travels, they had changed, and Hogwarts had stayed the same.

Draco tried to put that night from his mind, having accepted that nothing he once knew was enough anymore. It was a surprisingly easy thing to accept, knowing that Harry was in the same situation that he was, struggling for a breath of fresh air amidst the staggering familiarity and nightmares that would just not let up. Of course, it was also probably the only time that he envied Harry for not having a mother to over-obsess about him and rant for nearly two hours about dangerous magic and crazy Headmasters. Not that he didn't agree with her whole-heartedly on that second point, but even he had to say that his mother was a little over-zealous at calling Dumbledore the 'scum of the Underworld' and threatening to set a trap so Voldemort could kill him. Because, truthfully, for the first time in his life, he had never felt surer of himself, more content, more free.

Or more powerful.

Which was why, for the fifth time that week, he was going down to meet Harry in the grungy first-years bathroom, where they would head off to the Chamber of Secrets to spar and just be alone. Their new celebrity status at the school during the day was over-bearing, and Draco was sure he finally knew what Harry must have felt like on his first night at Hogwarts, autographs, pictures, and all. _Suffocated_, was the word that came to mind most often.

The first night they had agreed to meet, they had considered going to the Room of Requirement, but since the end of fifth year and the whole Dumbledore's Army/Umbridge debacle, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be discovered. That was the last thing they wanted, considering the House feuds and basic social rivalry that everyone else seemed to thrive on.

_Exhausting_, was the second word popping up in his thoughts.

Harry and Draco still 'fought' with each other – in the halls, little snide comments in classes, a soft firm 'accidental' shove here and there – but whenever they did so, they somehow always managed to catch each other's gaze, their eyes dancing with hidden mirth and a promise of redemption later at night, especially after a good tease or prank. It was exhilarating, like a private joke, a secret between best friends. No one else knew, no one could even hope to guess.

Draco turned and locked the bathroom door behind him before venturing down the steps underneath the column of sinks that Harry had left open for him. It was a long walk between the dungeons and the Chamber – a long dark passage that calmed Draco as he prepared himself for another bout with Harry using their weapons, wands, or wand-less magic that they had gotten to be such masters of. Almost meditative, the effect it had on him after a day at school or just suffering through his 'friends' company. He's almost convinced that they're all vultures – the Slytherin House, the way they cling to his presence like a merged parasite.

"Took you long enough," Harry said from the end of the stone hallway, Salazar's carved form looming above him like a shadowed demon.

"Had to wait till everyone was asleep, you know that," Draco replied, removing his school robe. Underneath, he wore the clothes that he had worn under his armor, somehow more comfortable than anything else in his extensive, expensive wardrobe. Harry stood, wearing something similar, but in all black, as opposed to Draco's drab grey and navy blue. Harry's sword was already strapped to his back; obviously he had been down here for a while. But he didn't seem tense or nervous in this place, and that confused Draco somewhat. He had known about what had happened down here, and had asked Harry once if he really minded sparring here. Harry had just smiled strangely, looking Draco over closely, as if he were surprised at the concern, saying, _"Only if it bothers you."_

Draco picked up his swords and walked towards Harry, already tense and in position. "Are you going to keep up the conversation, or are we going to fight?"

Harry grinned, half amusement, half teasing. "Without magic this time." He said, pulling out his weapon.

Draco nodded, sliding his double swords into one piece before changing his stance quickly and striking without warning. Harry blocked his downward thrust and smirked, a trait that he had recently picked up without even knowing it. He swung Draco's sword away and swiped in on Draco's right side, Draco parrying and the game was on.

Their fight went back and forth, blows thrown and blocked with equal grace, precision, and force. Neither backed down, even after over hour when they started to sweat profusely. It didn't faze them; they were so focused and lost in their fluidity, the battle stretching endlessly before their eyes.

Draco finally gained the upper hand – as he usually did when it was just technique against technique – and shoved Harry's sword up above his head, trapping him between a pillar and his own body. Their faces were only inches apart, both grinning and huffing like their wild hearts were beating, fast and intoxicated.

"I'll get you next time," Harry promised, his breathing slowly pacing down.

"That's what you always say…" Draco laughed, "I'll believe it when I see it,"

"You do too," Harry quipped, eyes glittering with amusement. Draco smiled wider, knowing it to be true, and found himself leaning further in, their positions still the same. Harry's breathing came to a halt as he realized how close they were. He didn't struggle, merely paused, waiting to see what would happen next. Draco's stare was intense as he shifted closer, impossibly closer until they were pressed fully onto one another, using his advantage gained and pinning Harry further onto the cold stone, which suddenly felt like ice to his back.

Then, Draco's mouth met his, a firm press that sent shockwaves through his being. He tilted his head slightly, welcoming more contact, and their lips parted together. One of Draco's hands slipped behind his neck, fingers sliding into Harry's hair while his other hand kept hold of his weapon, keeping Harry's arms above his head. He was in control this time - his kiss fierce and dominating in a way that felt so exhilarating, like they were still in combat.

But the high was like no other Harry or Draco had felt, not on their first broom ride, first completed spell, first battle. Not even like Harry's first kiss, this one that made flames dance on his skin and underneath nothing like the cold lips and tears that Cho had offered him that lonely winter day. It was like their magics were combining, mixing together in a desperate heat that grew as they continued to taste one another, tongues sliding and teeth biting and lips sucking…

They had to pull away, their breaths hot and mingling together as they clung to each other, their weapons clattering to the floor. Harry had never noticed their height difference until Draco had to lean down slightly to rest his forehead on Harry's. It was strange, considering how aware of Draco he was most of the time.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Draco holding onto Harry's hip and hair whilst Harry gripped Draco's shoulders, before they let go again. There was no rejection, no embarrassment or excuses. Not even panic – just acceptance and a promise in this startling new development. They didn't need words to express what they had felt between them, or even to show that it would be happening again.

Their destinies, they knew, were bound from that moment forward.

A fate, that seemingly forever ago, would have been a curse, but now only left a hot and comforting security in their minds and spirits.

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Sooo… What do ya think?

Yeah, I know it's been a long, long time, but I hope that this chapter made it worth it!

Review and I will love you all forever! (PLUS I promise smut in the future… Hehe.)

IcyBlue


	18. Chapter 18 Book Four: Absent Again

**Book Four Chapter Eighteen: Absent Again**

"Longbottom?"

"Here,"

"Granger,"

"Present,"

"Weasley,"

"Here,"

"Potter," A silence, pause in their daily routine caused McGonagall to look up for the first time since class started. "Potter?"

No one answered, several students instead surveying the classroom warily. Whispers bubbled and gained in volume, a small cacophony of worried and excited gossip whirled before McGonagall smacked a heavy volume down on her wood desk, hard. The sound startled them all back into a guilty silence.

"I take it that no one knows where Potter is?" Again, no one could answer, so she placed her book aside and breathed out softly. Then she resumed, picking up her wand and beginning the lecture.

"Today we will focus on turning a rock into a feather, then into a mortar and pestle…"

Hermione and Ron exchanged concerned, unsure glances, holding hands tightly under the desk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry pulled Draco down again, melding their mouths together. Draco tightened his embrace around Harry's upper back and sucked Harry's tongue before massaging it with his own. He ground his hips down as Harry arched, moaning and biting Draco's lip in retaliation for the sudden move.

They had abandoned training, lying themselves down on a spread cape that Harry had hurriedly tugged off. It had all started with a knowing glance, both wizards adrenalin levels spiking in the Hall before class. Most times, it seemed they no longer needed to speak to each other. They had skipped class simultaneously without exchanging more than that single look.

In fact, they had been skipping classes so often that Dumbledore had most of their Professors come knocking at his office door to complain. The Headmaster merely smiled wistfully, explaining without conferring with them that the 'two students in question' were undergoing a special training at his behest, and that he could assure their progression in advanced classes would not be impeded. It was that statement that had McGonagall demanding a demonstration in light of all their absences to show what exactly they were learning.

After a small dispute (maybe a little too small on Dumbledore's part) they had been persuaded (forced) to agree to a Wizard's Duel with one another.

And that was what they were _supposed _to have been practicing for, but they couldn't ignore the heated gazes and accidental-purposeful touching…it was torture trying to leash themselves and hold back.

So, after almost an hour of non-stop punishing, excessively brutal sparring, they found themselves on the ground, with Harry allowing Draco to pin him down. It wasn't long before they began a very similar, but still very different battle. In many ways, nothing had changed. They were still so violent with each other, but now they enjoyed, flourished under the pressure of one another's challenges.

Which was why they knew, even without practice, that displaying their newer abilities would not be difficult – in fact, it would be child's play. Maybe that shared look in the Hall was a catalyst for this instead of some undecided form of sparring…

But Harry wasn't thinking about that, not while Draco held him so possessively, so forcefully, claiming his mouth and skin and spirit. Draco was the only thing in his mind, and when a pause came for breath, he pulled back further to rest his head on the ground. Draco looked down at him questioningly, with dark eyes.

"After…" Harry breathed out slowly, "After all this, will you come with me?"

The blond was hit with the memory of a similar invitation given when they had been in the Diablo world, merely nights before they fought with the annoying, gigantic monster. He had answered then, but he considered what would happen if he did not allow himself to follow Harry, since the raven was giving him a chance to back out now that they had returned. Draco wasn't sure how long he could fool his family; survive under his father's thumb and the added weight of his mother's worry.

How long would it be until Voldemort asked him to take the Dark Mark?

In a way, in a cynical and dark place in his mind, Draco was glad for his father's disposition, his obsession with pride, family, and self-assurance of privilege. His mother did anything and everything is father said. It made this so much easier. What was there to lose, since he had no family to think about?

"I'm not sure," Draco pretended to contemplate, his mocking attitude a stark contrast to his harsh thoughts. "Leaving you to your own devices is _never_ a good idea…" He smirked, not even flinching when Harry smacked his arm.

"Come off it," Harry warned, but shared the same expression. "I'll take that as a yes…"

Draco simply nodded, then kissed him senseless once more. Harry slid his hands up, deftly clasping the chain of the completed amulet around Draco's neck, sealing the deal.

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The Grand Hall was crowded and loud surrounding the two table risers that the duel was to take place on. Word had gotten out about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's rematch in the morning, only a few hours before. Hogwarts had been in state of near chaos ever since, everyone wanted to see the epic battle between the metaphorical Princes of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Harry and Draco had yet to enter the Hall, waiting for Dumbledore or one of the other Professors to announce them. It was almost like a public execution with all the mud-slinging and the aggressively-charged atmosphere instead of a simply Wizard's Duel. Then again, maybe the excitement was lost on them both because of how safe the Duel was in comparison to all they had faced in the four worlds.

_In other words_, Draco thought to himself, _The students here need to get lives._

It almost pained him to think of how similar he had been to all those out there, mindlessly grasping at the chance of fame and notoriety and adoration from all the others who were so 'below' him. He knew he was the one who had changed the most from the trials of the amulet, the one who had gained the most. Draco may have taught Harry a thing or two about underestimating people, but Harry had taught him about everything else. His fingers unconsciously caressed the amulet.

For Harry, all the wizards and witches waiting beyond the doors were just as fickle and meaningless as they had been before. He found himself longing for the summer more and more as the weeks wore on, knowing his only redemption from this most tiresome world would be in solitude. The only moments of reprieve came from Draco and his friends, but his friends had even been weighing on him lately.

"_We hardly ever see you anymore Harry," _Hermione had said the day before, and Harry had just smiled back and said that he thought she and Ron would appreciate the space. Hermione couldn't control her blush enough to counter that.

The subject had been mercifully dropped, but he wondered just how long before it would be examined again, possibly bringing to life one of his worst fears: the time lost in the amulet. Ron had tried several times to goad him into telling them about his adventures with 'that annoying ponce', but Harry had shut him down as effectively and politely as he could. He knew his friends had so many questions for him, but Harry himself didn't know the answers. Had he changed? That much was obvious. Was it for the better or the worse?

He was still debating with himself on that one.

But he knew that he had been pulling away from Ron and Hermione, however unintentionally. It was all building up and morphing the situation between friends into something unrecognizable, and it would eventually come to a head. Harry knew he had the loyalty and compassion from them both, it had been tested so many times, but he often wondered if their friendship was about to be pushed to their limits…

"Will Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy please come forward?" Dumbledore announced them, and the two boys opened the doors and walked together into the crowd. The masses parted like receding tides on either side of them, forming a pathway closed off by bodies dressed in black. They made it to the riser and stepped up, facing the Professors sitting on the opposite end of the room behind their large table. Dumbledore waited until the bustling crowds rearranged themselves so that everyone had a clear view and then quieted down.

"This will be a demonstration of the abilities that Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter have learned in their time apart from us. As such, they will not follow the exact rules of a Wizard's Duel, and only stop when I say so. At the end, there will be a meeting with myself and the rest of the Professors as to the nature of your future schooling. Now, prepare yourselves and make your way to the opposite ends of the platform,"

Harry and Draco nodded to him, then turned away from each other and walked to their places. The students below them were thrumming with tension, and there were a few shouts of praise and violent encouragement from several individuals.

Draco turned to face Harry again, smirking and deciding to play up their act, "Ready to lose, Potter?" he yelled.

"You wish." Harry smiled devilishly back, "You couldn't beat me the last time,"

"Neither could you - We didn't even finish." Draco rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "It's different this time,"

"'Course," Harry replied, "This time there won't be any question who wins,"

And then he started the battle with a fireball heading directly for Draco's chest. Draco deflected it as the crowd drew a collective gasp of shock. No one had known that Harry and Draco could use wandless magic. Everyone except for Hermione and Ron, and they were surprised at the level of magic being deployed by both parties and how dangerous it was…

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In the end, they made such a big mess that they and four other sixth years had to stay behind to clean up and repair the burnt, cracked walls and broken furniture. Niether had won, persay, but the battle had been something magnificent - it would be the talk of Hogwarts for months to come. Harry and Draco had been approached by many students after Dumbledore called a stop once a piece of the stone ceiling was broken off and almost fell on some of the students (how they managed to miss that badly was both and neither of their faults, as they both had blocked one another at exactly the right – _err_ – wrong moment…)

Even though the damage had been such a disaster, the goal of the Duel was at least reached. None of the Professors claimed that Draco or Harry needed any further study, and actually encouraged excluded training from the rest of the students instead of coming to class (except Snape, whom had seen not one ounce of Potions aptitude in their 'little performance' as he called it.) So, with the exception of Potions and Care of Magical Creatures classes, they had nothing on their schedule except training and studying whatever else Dumbledore would assign them to work on.

It was a pretty good trade off, they had to admit. Most classes that dealt with any wand magic were too novice for them at their current level. This realization made Harry smile: he knew that he had not been a very apt and magic oriented Wizard before the plunge into the amulet's worlds, but now he was probably capable of teaching the classes he had been doing poorly in not four weeks (Hogwarts time) ago. This new agreement of study also meant that they didn't have to interact with the other students nearly as much, and that was a welcome reprieve. Harry hardly saw the point in chatting with anyone who wasn't Hermione, Ron, or Draco anymore. It would have made him sad that he had so few friends at Hogwarts anymore, except that he wouldn't have traded them for anything else in the world.

And with the way Draco would look at him sometimes, he knew that the blond probably felt the same.

He couldn't wait for the four weeks to pass and summer break to come.


End file.
